Penny's Grey.

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Her name is Jordan. She’s been alive on this earth for over two decades. She’ll never win a beauty contest, her weight makes sure of that. She’ll never blend into a crowd, her hair makes sure of that. Those are the first two things you notice about her, her hair and her weight. But, then she starts talking. There’s a 90% chance that within the first moments of meeting her she will make you laugh. She’s got a sharp Irish tongue, she exudes false confidence, and she laughs when anyone is watching. She’s passionate, or dear lord is she passionate. There is not much grey in her life, it’s love or hate, right or wrong, good or bad and she relishes in the extreme. When she commits to belief it takes over her soul. She is forever trying to keep it positive when it comes to other people. She wants them to feel loved. She wants them to feel like she would do anything to support them, because she would. She wants to be a P.R. maven and help the people of the world fall in love with the people she already loves. In the decades she’s been alive she’s perfected the art of loving other people. With no holding back, with no shame, she loves. She wraps her loves in perfect blue paper and stores them deep inside the softness of her soul, forever careful to not let those people venture into the harden, bitter depths she hides from the world. Oh she’s jaded. Little parts of her soul have been blackened by her loving ways. She never learned to love herself. She thinks she’s ugly because others have told her so. She thinks she’s a lost cause because others have let her wander. She knows she’s heartbroken because she can’t feel it beating.  There is dead tissue left and it festers. It hides behind her eyes and she smiles.

Her name is Morgan and she is forever 21. No, no, not like the store. No, forever 21 in that she doesn’t age. She’s a young adult with a chip on her shoulder and a beer in her hand. She’s the protector. She comes around when Jordan can’t be seen. When the darkness creeps into Jordan’s eyes, Morgan hides Jordan away in a room with a book and a Hanson CD. Morgan doesn’t play games. She too does not believe in grey. It’s now or never with Morgan and if the answer is never she won’t bat an eyelash, she will simply walk away. Morgan drinks too much and she talks too much. Morgan will tell you things Jordan wouldn’t dare utter. She’ll give truth out like it’s candy on Halloween and she’ll laugh when your teeth rot.  At any given moment she will spew all of Jordan’s secrets and let them leak into your ocean like an oil tanker run aground. She’ll start off quietly passive aggressive and then shift into full blown aggression. She doesn’t like when Jordan gets hurt, because then she has to make an appearance and it’s not the kind of appearance she likes to make. She likes command performances on the stages of bars and townhouses making people laugh, complaining about the music, and blowing people’s minds with her unbridled drunken dysfunction. She likes to be a good time, she doesn’t like to be the center of a bad time. But, she will be, she’ll make your night the worst you’ve ever had if she has to. She’s the fury and the storm and she talks.

Her name is Penny. She has no age, just an old soul. She’s quiet, poetic, and kind. She’s shy in the worst times and can only ever express herself through art. She loves music, she lives inside a melody, and she’s sure every song she hears was written just for her. She’s the kind of girl you could fall in love with.  She’ll hold you as tightly as possible while you fall apart and she’ll cry tears over your pain. If you need her she will entangle herself with you and you won’t know if the tears on your cheek are hers or your own. Penny will write you songs. She will immortalize you with the swift movement of a pen or the click of fingers on a keyboard. She won’t be the one to make you laugh. Jordan and Morgan have monopolized that venture, laughter is their defense. Penny has no defense. Penny is the heart on the sleeve left for the elements of life to erode away. But, she never fades, she just quietly creeps back inside until the storm has passed. Then she’ll process it. Penny will take Jordan’s heartbreak and Morgan’s drunken mistakes and she will make something of them. She will be the one to find the moral at the end of the story and say the things the other girls don’t want to hear. She is honest, she cannot, will not lie. She will tell the others that she loves him and the others have no choice but to listen and to love. She will create the playlist of sad songs and make Jordan and Morgan feel something they don’t want to feel. Like Morgan, she never likes to see Jordan hurt, but she won’t pretend it didn’t happen.  She lives in the grey the other two claim don’t exist. She knows nothing is clear cut so she thinks and she feels. She will over analyze a situation until every moment has been gone over and then she will talk about it some more. She is the hurt and the pain and she feels.

They are three girls. Three completely messed up sides to the same person. They go through life taking turns so that not every side is seen at once. Jordan’s broken soul hidden by love and laughter take center stage. Morgan makes appearances and her fury leads to conversations most people don’t want to have. Penny tries to never show  her face, she lies hidden in prose and teardrops. But, all three of them fell for him. It was a general consensus  that this boy was different, he laughed at Jordan’s jokes and looked into her eyes even as the darkness crept. He sat next to Morgan while she gave her performance, he listened to her fury, and he didn’t run away. But Penny, she liked him best. He stirred within her that quiet, peaceful warmth, that had long been forgotten. He had side stepped the other two and he looked Penny in the eyes, he saw her, he’s the only one that’s ever actually seen her. But he hurt them. He told Jordan the words she couldn’t handle hearing again. He forced Morgan to step out and drink and laugh and then he forced her to truth and she gave it to him. But, Penny, he hurt her the worst. He denied her the chance she’s been waiting on since the moment she looked at him. She was going to be the best she’d ever been for him, she was going to forget the hurt and feel and write and sing and dance and love. Now, here they are again, all three huddled around the computer while Jordan pretends like it’s no surprise, Morgan smokes her millionth cigarette, and Penny types and she cries. Tomorrow they will all go back out into the world as one to smile, to talk, and to feel, lost in Penny’s grey. 

I Have No Title

She sat in a dark room, with music playing, an empty pack of cigarettes had fallen at her feet. Her fingers brushed across the keyboard so swiftly the text struggled to keep up. She was poised for the anger, she knew it had to come. It always follows the sadness. She screamed for the anger and she shook with the need to feel the fury. She’d learned this lesson before, if you can get to the anger the hurt stops. Yes, she’d learned this lesson before. She was a self-taught genius in the world of hurt. She once joked that she’d write a book. It’s cute how they really thought she was joking. No, she could write a book, she should write a book. Something with a catchy title like “He’s just not that into fat girls” or “They’ll always just want to be your ‘friend.’” It would fly off the shelves and women would laugh and relate and she’d be understood. Isn’t that what she was chasing? The ultimate understanding? She went over it again and again with everyone. She calculated her moves, she leaned her head, she looked him in the eyes. She hates looking into eyes, but she did. They all encouraged her. Oh how she loved when they smiled and said “he likes you.” Those little whispers about how adorable she is, they had no idea she could giggle. She had forgotten she could giggle. She gets lost in memories of the nights standing at the bottom of the stairs and her brother telling her she deserves this boy who makes her feel this way. Her old friend telling her she was beautiful and worth it and he’d be crazy to say no. They all kept whispering “go for it!” So she did. She moved closer and she lowered her voice and he leaned in to listen. That memory, god she can almost feel it’s warmth. So she cries. She’s sad today. It’s been a horrible week. It began with a verbal assault that included every possible hurtful thing in the world. She was violated, she’d lost trust, in a matter of seconds she had been hurt by a shower of verbal bullets and she barely pulled through. She thought she could prove the shooter wrong. She thought that she could survive it if she showed him the things he had said were lies. If she could be wanted he’d be proved wrong. But, he was right. A week later he was right and she was left with that knowledge. Perhaps that’s why she keeps avoiding eye contact with everyone. She’s the liar. She made them believe that she could have it this time. She tricked her friends into seeing the best sides of her and now they are left with this broken side of her. The side they've never seen. She’s so sorry. Every time she crys she just feels so sorry. She’s sorry to herself because no matter how much she hates herself today no one should have to feel this way. She’s sorry to her friends who don’t deserve to have to watch her cry. They shouldn't have to comfort her. She’s so sorry for him. She didn't mean to spill her heart out and make him feel guilty. That’s not fair and he doesn't deserve that. Most girls just move on right? She should move on, he said no. But, no always hurts. Especially because she only actually asks once every couple of years. She knows hurt, so she doesn't let it happen, but she fell this time. This time she opened up to people and she took direction, this time she thought she might actually have the shot. She ran the play over and over again in her head, she stops at the point, takes one last breath and shoots. But, she didn't even get the puck, she tapped the ice to let the world know she was ready to take her shot, and he denied her the shot. That shot could have won the game. It could have changed the entire season. So she’s sad because she missed her shot and that asshole was right about her. She’s sorry, sorry for herself because she’s starting to see a major pattern. She’s sorry to her friends, because she’s taking this way too hard and even she’s annoyed. And, she’s sorry to him, maybe she will be his friend, because he’s wonderful, and better to be friends with wonder than not know it all. She sits in her dark room and she types. She cries a little bit more because someone once told her “crying is not a sign of weakness, since birth it has always been a sign that you are alive.” She’s alive, she’s sad, but she’s alive. She’s not angry. He’s not angry that she cares too much how can she be angry that he doesn’t care. It’s a story she’s lived before and she’ll probably live it all over again. Because that shooter was right and until she can tell him he was wrong nothing will ever change.

Ends With You

 As with all blogs like this I have included an audio file for you to listen to because it makes it easier to follow and understand....also as always I love your comments and feedback! Laker Love!


Ends With You:

To tell him. To give a speech not for credit or glory, but for your heart. To hope that the smile he puts on your face doesn’t fade as you finish your conclusion. To take a chance that you just might be worthy of the love that pours from your soul so easily when you are amongst souls like his. Love, a strong word, a hurried word, infatuation more fitting, but not the word you’d use in your presentation. Desire, desire for the warmth radiating off him to cover you like your favorite blanket from your childhood. A split second, yes or no, victory or failure with no grey area. Mixed singles and confusion a thing of the past and then you’d know. But, no-- fear. Unbridled, all-consuming fear, a memory, a night in a car and being told that you were unworthy of love. A night spent crying on the steps, comforted by friends, knowing they’ll never understand, they try to say the right things, but it’s not their words you need. A quick glance behind you, eye contact, all else forgotten. Hello, I’ve been waiting for you. A sudden belief in fate, did the Creator finally send him after all this time? Were you meant to take six years because in that final year his soul would entangle in your. Did you just say that outloud? No, no, you typed in on a screen. That’s safe, maybe he won’t know it’s all about him. He already knows…he knows…he hasn’t ran…should you reach out. NO! NO! Don’t reach out, the burn, it’s still there from the last time. The scar, do they see it? No? You feel it. STOP! STOP! Don’t let this chance go, tell him, love him, no regrets. No, not love yet, adore him, you adore so well…admire him…BELIEVE in him. He’s not the team, he’s not a player, but he’s one that could be so much more than they ever were. What a passion without someone to share it with? Let them tell him, NO PLEASE DON’T SAY ANYTHING! He can’t know until you’re ready. You’re ready, You’re not ready. You’ll never be ready. Make an excuse, text him, wait for the response, blush when you see his name. Blush when you see his face, blush when he says your name. Blush, you’re always blushing, everyone can see it! DAMNIT! More face paint, all day, every day, don’t let him see you. He thinks you’re crazy and loud and crazy. So crazy. He doesn’t know you’re quiet, poetic, broken, lost, hopeful, so hopeful, he gives you hope. Oh shit, it’s that feeling again, hope, a desire, anticipation. Don’t anticipate, you always get let down. Could he catch you? Is he strong enough. Yes, no, yes, maybe, fuck. Beer, another cigarette, another talk with your friends. They see it, but do they see what they want to see? Do they have the same hope for you. Hope is blind, you scratched it’s eyes out the night the boy told you you were too fat to be loved. Aha! There it is! That boy is still haunting you. You swore you let him go. Can you let him go? Could reciprocated love make you finally forget? They swear you are worthy. Are you? Do you want to be? Love’s not safe and you need quiet and safe at the end of the night. Safe, he makes you feel safe already, if you jump into the water will he throw you a line? Pull you in? Or watch you sink, sink like an anchor. NO! YOU REFUSE TO SINK! Look at you, you could have given up on so many things so many times but you never do. You’re a believer and a lover. BELIEVE in yourself. LOVE yourself. BELIEVE he could LOVE you. To tell him. To give a final speech with a proper introduction, body, and conclusion. A short simple speech that begins with “I” followed by “want to love” and ending with “you.” It always ends with you.