Dear. Small. Intrigue.

Did you just tweet about a joke I made?

Was that thing about a girl's hair about me?


Thanks for spicing up some dull moments.

Even though that probably wasn't about me.

This is The Best Dance Ever

I am currently in an inward puddle of melty emotion as goey as the chocolate chips that graced the cookies hot from the oven earlier this afternoon.

(Yes in fact I did just compare myself to a chocolate chip. It kinda works. My eyes are chocolatey. So there.)

It's so silly, some of the things that propel me skyward. But I think it's somewhat magical as well. Those people that think nothing's a big deal anymore... I pity them. Where did all those little magical chemicals go? Did they die inside you? What shocks you in the best way? What terrifies you?

I'm terrified to think that one day I won't be so filled with emotion that it terrifies me. I feel everything right to the center of me. It's raw and in hi-def and fills me to the brim. Sometimes it's horribly painful.

But sometimes it can be magic.

Where would I be without the tiny things and the tiny chemicals that exhilarate me?

To the Gray/Blue/White Comforter,

You don't judge me for piling things on your left side. You know I don't sleep there anyway. You welcome stacks of laundry, my withering prom corsage, lonely school papers, the satchel I used a week ago.

But best of all, your plush comfort holds laughing friends and crying siblings. It acts as an impenetrable monster shield at 2:00am and knows exactly where to fold when I arrange you haphazardly every morning at 6:38.

And of course, you hold me. When I have no one else, you let me curl up in your corner and bunch up your folds in my arms and sniffle myself to sleep. You let me huddle beneath your safety as long as I need to on the mornings I just can't face life quite yet, and you always make room for my cat to burrow under and join in.
You're always warm, you're always soft, and you're always there.

I appreciate it.

To The Head Taller Than Me on the Dance Floor

Thank you for never losing your class.

Thank you for being just as awkward as me.

Thank you for dancing the old fashioned way.

Thank you for letting me have that one magic moment.

Thank you for letting me be a girl.

"You're pretty alright." 

You too, kiddo. You too.

Not Getting Enough Sleep Anyway

...So I'll write about how I hate this moment. One I've had countless times this past year.

Of sitting at the computer. The only light is the stinging one of the monitor in front of me. My eyelids won't stay open, and when they do they fill with frustrated tears. Because no matter how long I force my body to stay conscious, it won't make a difference.

I'll finish my homework. I always do.

It'll be mediocre, along with most of my existence.

I won't get anything above an 82% on that-one-test tomorrow in that-one-infernal-class. I never do.

And in the middle of trying to understand math problems I wasn't there to learn the equations for, I'll throw down my pencil. I'll stare at the brightness in front of me, enveloped by the blackness of the downstairs behind me.

I'll sink my head and arms into my textbook, which suddenly feels like a pillow.

And I'll cry.

Because nothing can change the fact that I have too many things that all require my immediate attention, but I'm spread so thin and ragged that there's nothing left of me to give. To any of it.

I hate these nights.

But what I hate most about them is the fact that they never used to happen.
It makes it worse when they do.

To the Hotel Hallway,

Your quiet sanctuary is as enclosed as it is open.

You provide safety in your long corridors of space, to eliminate any cramped fears.

You also seclude, you knit together, and you make the smaller spaces seem even smaller and quieter.

Your walls are sturdy and always have my back. Literally.

Your floors are soft enough to let me sit for three hours, yet hard enough to make me change positions every ten minutes.

You magnify sound, and yet you hold whispers without releasing them to slip under the cracks of the many doors lining your walls.

You keep my secrets and you let me make my own.

I hope you always remember the tiny, rather extraordinary scene that happened on your stage. I think I will.

But let's keep it between us.

Dear Logical Abby,

Where are you?

Did you tremble with fear somewhere between college stresses and the small crumbling of lost opportunities and decide to just buy a train ticket and hightail it out of there?

Because I could really use you about now. Those pebbles of sanity are slipping through my fingers again. Only now instead of hitting someone else's head...

... somehow they're hitting me.

It's not the greatest thing ever.

Those tears that use to stay tied up in their knot in my throat are loosening more often and spilling out from who-knows-where. And there's not a shoulder in sight.

Come back. I don't think anyone else is coming to rescue me.

So you'll have to do.

Dear Sleepless in Stafford,

Gripping your hand in fear as the zombies attacked us from the huge movie screen wasn't weird. It's okay, I know that's what we were both thinking.

Actually, not a lot is weird with you.

We high five when either of us thinks of a new vocabulary word to use in conversation and you're the only, only one who I always feel like I can talk to here. Always.

Do you realize how much I need that?

I hope your latest venture works out. Genuinely.

But, when you said Monday, a small, terrified part of me, somewhere deep down, widened its eyes and whimpered, "But..."

... Because I know everyone thinks that everything is just going to work out fine for me, but part of me (actually, at least 40%) wonders if that's true.

So I'm glad you agreed to back me up. I meant it.

You did, right?

Dear Family,

Mr. Coia,
You remain my favorite teacher ever, and you know what? Forget what I said about my new teacher reminding me of you. He's bald and dresses nicely. That's about it. Otherwise he is the polar opposite of the English teacher I have come to need. Can we Skype and you just teach me rhetoric?

Donaven,
I need someone to freak out like I'm a big deal when I sing Love Song. And just be silly with. And hug China because it needs some love. You're the only person I can say that I literally hugged China with. Let that ferment like a fine wine.

Aaron,
I just wish I could see you do that head-exploding gesture/sound effect that we do and your little crooked-grin laugh. I miss having you freak out when I told you cool stuff that happened and having cool matching nicknames that end in -lynn and your hipster combo of aviators/penny board/tank top. And because you don't read this, I can say that I miss Aaron and Amelia. They were good together. Admit it. They were great.

Michael,
I miss having kind of a guy best friend. Who could do funny little alien peace signs and a little skip-hop thing when he was excited and derp faces like no one else. Who had a kitten and lots of movies. Who would let me rant about girl problems and understand them, and who even though I friend-zoned I could almost see marrying one day because he's just that awesome.

Gunnar,
Can you make me laugh? You were so good at that. Can you mow my lawn and then carpool with me everywhere and then introduce me to the right way to eat udon noodles with your Korean mom and then slide on your aviators and walk off into the sunset like it's no big deal? Please?
Can we Skype or something? I need cheering up.

Bailey,
Everything reminds me of you.

Steffany,
The way we counted to five and then sneezed for six was kind of the best thing about drama class. And assigning seductive names to upperclassmen boys may have started with you. And I've always thought that the way you laughed at your own jokes was cute, not annoying. It made everyone else realize how funny they were. I hope you and Grant get married, and that you stay so, so Mexican.

Sarah,
Someone told me once that I was like a younger you, and I think that's the best. I'm kind of starting to become you more every day, and it's sad that you're not around to approve. They played the Kooks in Foot Locker today, and I almost danced down the aisles of high heels from pure glee. Secretly, I always wished we were better friends. But Coree took that spot, and she needed it more than I did. So I let her, and simply admired your sunglasses and gazelle-like movements from afar.

Cody,
I miss my older brother. My dueling partner who laid out the roadmap of high school for me in the back rows of the auditorium when we were supposed to be learning our lines. You told me where the shortcuts were, detours to avoid, and most importantly, gave me a telescope and gave me a glimpse into the field of sunflowers, the honey-filled bunches of oats that was You and Sarah. And even though you told me last month not to copy that relationship, I've realized that that's kind of what my life is turning into. The good parts, anyway.

Coree,
We really are the same person. So now that I don't have you around, it's like there's this gaping hole in me. Like when you lose a tooth, and it feels strange because your tongue keeps running over this empty space and it's not right. Except the tooth's not growing back. I still miss you just as much as when you were yanked from my being.

Dave,
You were such a big part of who I am now. I still do our Inception yell, and no one gets it here.
When you emailed me to ask how I was doing I broke down crying because... I don't know. I just did.

Joe,
Besides my dad, you might be my favorite Marine. Going to Burger King with you after church was so much fun. Between cracking jokes about my dad's rank, complaining about physical fitness tests, and listening to you threaten bodily harm on all my future boyfriends, you always finished a burger twice the size of mine. I'm glad you're bald. It's cool.

Lewis,
Thanks for showing me the world. It's been gradually shrinking for me since we parted, and I need to find a new you and get some fresh air.
You already know.


Moral of the story:
I need some Skype dates.
Like now.
I need some apple tea and Arashi's and Coco's curry.
I need some hugs from the right people.
I need to climb a tree.