S/o to Dan Humphrey

Dear Dan Humphrey aka Adam Canfield,

Your blog was nice so I composed a song to one of my favorite writings of yours.

Also I couldn't just upload audio so I had to do a video, but I didn't have time to make a real one.. so this is what you get :')

Fear - Dan Humphrey/Adam Canfield

A mirror. Yes. I think a mirror  can be one of the scariest things in the world.
Looking yourself in the eye, that's hard to do.
Considering all the fears you could have. Most of these fears are completely irrational.
And especially irrelevant when you come to the realization that you're going to die.
Why would you be worried about what others may be thinking about you when one day
you'll die and it won't matter at all?
Be happy with who you are.
Accept yourself for who you are.
Stare into the mirror, and see yourself as you truly are.

Alive and full of potential.

#blackoutpoetry

Dear "Brown Eyes"

I miss you.

I miss YOU, so much.

It hurts, and I just pray you're okay.
That you stopped doing reckless things..
So that one day I don't have to get a bad
phone call from your mom.

The other night I was with this boy, but
it didn't seem fair.
Because everything brought me back to you..
And the stranger beside me who's nothing
more than a friend,
He doesn't deserve this..
To have me pretend he's in my head, when
really I'm thinking of you.

So please answer the phone because I don't
want this to be the last time.
I regret having to leave so suddenly, but
believe me, the moment I was gone my heart
ached and I yearned to hear you nearby.

Because we seem to go in circles and
every time I'm back,
I have to wait while you catch up.
But I think I took this pattern for granted,
Because what if..

"I can't come back tonight, I'm sorry"

     was the last I'll ever say to you.

And everything stimulating my senses pulls
memories back from the dark of all we've
done.

and I hate it.

I hate it.
I hate it.
I HATE IT.



Simply because the emotion is a lot bigger
      than the three words "I miss you"

BE HONEST

I hate football games
I'm scared of popular kids
and besides church, I haven't talked
to my friends in three weeks.

I cry when I eat because food
tastes just that good
I laugh too hard at stupid jokes
And I'm constantly asked if I'm high.

and that's okay.. 
because the name's Leland,
otherwise known as Kira.

Kira
Alexandra
Hurst

17 and planning on being a cat lady,
because I already don't care what
others think.
Because even though everyone is
having a "fabulous" high school
experience, I'm ready to go out
and live.
And all I care about is being with
those that make me happy.

Because in the end..

All I want is to be honest.

and that's why, whether my writing
is signed by Leland, or Kira,

Just know,

It's still the same me.

"I was happy and my heart is broken"

Tell them all I know now,

And shout it from the rooftops - wings spread to the sun chasing after danger. 

We keep falling for the lures of liquid confidence and lies, 

And we skydive from walls we build.

But,

the sun will rise again.

So tell them I was happy,

and my heart is broken, 

write it on the skyline and tell me is this freedom- 

That maybe in a million miles on a highway through the sky

We'll take pride in what is sure to die.

Because if all we have is time,

we'll be alright,

and someday soon-

If our worlds collide, we'll be together. 

--------------------------------------------

Fumes - The Eden Project 

Be Together - Major Lazer

Truce - 21 Pilots

Impossible - James Arthur 

10:26 PM

Sun rays dried up by the night.

The smile torn off a child's face by harsh reality. 

And the occasional flutter of moonlight seeping in. 

This is the hollow organ I call my heart. 

G(r)ave

I often mistake gave for grave. 

A one letter difference,

A one motive difference. 

Because each gift I gained added another doubt to my uneased mind. 

You promised they were sincere,

But in the end,

Life isn't all about receiving

And I gave you everything. 

And when I die,

On my stone I'll leave an inscription of what you really 'gave'

In hopes that one day I'll learn not to accept death in the form of a gift. 

Because what's a promise to reality. 

Life Instructions

Someone once told me,

Like a map that tells you what to do

"Souls can't be fooled"

Fear.

When it comes down to it I think we're all afraid of the idea of fear and what it will pertain to. 

I want you to make me feel alive, but it seems you're already dead. 

Same

I feel uninspired,

Feelings hard and retired.

Having many opportunities to become great, but instead I came out molded and shaped like everyone else. 

With the same corners, edges, and color, what's unique about the life of a brick?

I don't know if it's good or bad that I can't relate to who I used to be. 

Blue eyes have always been my thing, but you make brown eyes beautiful. 

The Pinecone

Your eyes are clear and blue like a lake.

But your mind is not, and I don't understand it.

It's like finally understanding how to add,

And then the teacher introduces fractions. 

Like a system of equations that was true. 

But now, the point has changed, and suddenly there's, 'no solution'. 

But in one brief moment a pinecone hung from the ceiling between you & I. 

"What's that supposed to be, mistletoe?"

And in that moment I set myself up,

the equation changed and now there's 'infinite solutions'. 

And while your clear eyes remain, mine darken to match my brain. 

Because my feelings are so lost they can't walk in a straight line. 

And a mere pinecone in the forrest has become a memory of your lake. 

Aspects of Love

You say 'Love', but what do you mean?

"I Love You"

How broad your feelings could be,

You love nature, because you like being outside.

You love your mom, because she gave birth to you. 

You love your family, because it's obligatory and they know every moment of your life since birth. 

And friends? You hear it all the time. 

"I Love You"

Pass a group of girls and you'll at least hear it once. 

But those words of love so often mask a sharper truth. 

But I believe the love we all dream of is a much deeper love, that of one another, a selfless love. 

Where you'd give up anything and suffer their worst pain. 

A love where a fight isn't enough to kill the many seconds of time spent together. 

A love that balances physical attraction with genuine care. 

Where making the other happy is enough to liven your day. 

"I Love You"

The words that echo from a temporary voice. 

And so often love is driven out by lust. 

And while a lover lay satisfied, the body next to them is a stranger that's lost their self worth. 

You say you love me, but what do you mean?

There's many kinds, and love is complicated, but tell me..

  Are you in love with a person? 

Or are you in love with their lust? 

Now I have a fear

Back when I was a kid my family lived in my grandmas basement. 

We had one room for 6 girls, and only 4 could fit in the bed. 

Believe me when I say I understand how Harry Potter felt, because me and my sister slept in the closet on storage boxes,

Although,

We each got our own side. 

But it was okay, because every once in a while one of us would get to squeeze in with our sisters and sleep in a real bed. 

The next room we got had a few beds, but being around 4 years of age I had trouble sleeping soundly. 

To help me my mom would come lay by my side and I'd wrap myself around her arm in hopes she would stay. 

But no matter how many ways I tried to keep her there, no matter how tight I thought I held on, she was always gone by morning and I'd wake to no one there. 

When I grew old enough for school I went without question, only to find when I came home my report card lay open. 

And anything less than an 'A' resulted in a look from my dad. 

He didn't even have to say the words:

You can do better,

You're a smart girl,

I expect nothing but the best,

Your sisters went to BYU and you will too. 

His eyes said it all. 

Now 17 years old I still find that same look from my dad, and even from myself. 

And it seems this attitude follows me like a shadow with everything i do. 

If my attempt reeks any failure, even in the slightest, I've lost. 

Because what's the point if you can't be perfect, let alone good enough. 

And with friends slamming, locking, and burning doors, I find myself alone. 

When all I need is someone that I know won't disappear once morning comes. 

17 years old, I thought I'd turn out okay. 

But I still remember that one time my sister said:

You're annoying,

Just be quiet,

GO AWAY!!

And then, silence. 

It echoes in my mind and haunts my heart with every action I take. 

And now instead of 'okay',

I have a fear of failure,

A fear of being unwanted, 

And a fear that when someone leaves, they're never coming back. 

Human.

What if we thought of being human as more of a form, a state, a condition of being?

If I had said 'I love you' one last time, would you have stayed? 

You finally came back only to leave me behind, so I hung out with your brother because he reminded me of you. 

idk

1. Nelson said to try writing a list 

2. I don't know how to be original

3. I'm scared of riding scooters 

4. I learned number 3 just today 

5. I'm also scared to order food

6. I want to take a nap

7. I also want to go do something crazy 

8. I hope this is enough 

9. I'm not good at lists 

10. This sums up my life

Story Time

In first grade I had an imaginary friend. 

Not the kind that was always there and you'd play with, but the kind that was there when you felt lonely. 

In first grade we would sit on the carpet for story time, or to learn the days of the years. 

When I sat down I'd take up more space than I needed, Cuz I knew my "friend" would need somewhere to sit. 

No it wasn't a friend I could see or even imagine. 

Just merely a thought,

that somebody wanted me to save a spot. 

So they, could sit next to me. 

The Black Crayon

PICK A CRAYON ANY CRAYON. 

But don't touch the black, 

DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. 

The black crayon is bad. 

Pick a color like yellow: full of bright happy days and over enthusiastic smiles. 

Pick the blue: bring peace and serenity to any chaotic scribble. 

Pick the red crayon: control and order, maybe a little helpful agression in a dull picture. 

Or maybe pick the Orange: it's garunteed to bring random and humor to any moment. 

But stay away from black, add that to the picture and it's not Art anymore. 

Atleast that's what they say,

Pick black: add some depressed thoughts and sad moments, maybe a little taboo. 

But the way I see it, add black: create sad thoughts and depressed moments, and, a little more character.  

The black crayon? You can try making a master piece without darkness, but then where's the contrast?

                             . . .

Pick a crayon, any crayon. 

But why not pick them all?

Happy Birthday

My friend told me to write about his feet. 

And the other about her birth. 

Well darling, I've known you since time began and we thought we were basketball pros. 

And then years passed and though the hoop remains the same, we do not. 

And finally we realized we suck at basketball and should do something else. 

It's been years and I've seen you grow up into a kind, beautiful, and loving person. 

And though I look down on you because of age, I look up to you more than you'll know. 

As for the man?

We met two years ago and all I've managed to learn is that you're sarcastic and fun to be around. 

And the other day you wore sandals and boyyy your feet were white. 

But that doesn't matter, 'cause it's not the feet that make the person. 

I hope I get to spend more than this one birthday with you, so that one day I may know what it is that makes you different from others. 

I wish you both, a very lovely day of birth. 

If Hats Are Like People

Ask me 'bout hats, and all I could say is,

That's a SnapBack.

That's a beanie.

And that's a baseball cap.

If we're talking 'bout people, I regret to say that just like hats I don't know them all. 

Someone might call him a fedora, 

and I'd say 'where?'

But change the hat and he'll get noticed.

It seems some are born with a hat that will never come off. 

But perhaps that's because their head's too big, or simply, they never tried to take it off. 

Just think about the kid in class who wears the jester hat, he's the class clown, everybody knows that. 

But what if he took it off? 

Who would he be?

Or what about the big athlete that seems to always cover his eyes with his 'star' hat. 

Nock it off till it hits the ground. 

Now who is he?

As he looks for his hat will he look at different opportunities,

Or cling to the old. 

If hats are like people and different sides of ourselves, 

maybe one day we'll switch,

without worrying who it is we're wearing it for. 

The Reason Why

Why write?

Why imagine?

Why share anything at all?

The reason why?

To express.

Express such love,

             such sadness,

             such anger,

             And my emotions for you. 

But how do you express such things to someone with no reply.

You once said you favorite 98% of the tweets on your feed. 

But mine remain the 2% unnoticed. 

The reason why?

Because I'm not good at expressing myself without hurting others. 

But one day, I'll escape the 2% and be noticed. 

Not only by you, but by the world. 

The reason why I write?

Because we talk about life in metaphors..

And if we're in the middle of a our last game.. 

                    I'd have to say..

                    In this moment..

                   I missed the ball.