Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

proceed with caution

if you cant handle my seething rage.. better back out quickly.  NOW.

every day.. every fucking miserable day
i give
i give and i give and i give
even if its just a little bit.. when thats all i have left..
because you have sucked me lifeless....
and all i fucking get is silence
NOTHING

its like a door slammed in my face
one of those really heavy double paned glass doors
like i dont see it coming every fucking time

im tired
my blood is at its boiling point
im burnt
im like some idiot who just keeps putting his hand in the fucking flame

i just want to be heard
im shouting at the top of my lungs
shouting hoarse
NOTHING

fucking look right at me
NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SEE ME
HEAR ME
FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGE ME

i dont want what you have to give
it isnt enough
i dont want to feel this way anymore
i dont want to FEEL anymore
and now..
the ice and steel
is building its foundation
once again..
and then..
you will come back with words of solace
and reassurance
and i will crumble
the wall will melt and fall away like toothpicks..
and i will believe what i want so badly to believe..
because i am weak and damaged beyond repair.

i am worthy of more. dammit.. i am fucking worthy.
when am i ever going to believe in me
i would give anything to slam this glass door in your face.

im really close.

slammed.
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