If I told

you everything you could have been, would you care to miss yourself as much as I did?
I wish you'd see how lovely you could have been. How fun, real, exciting and full of talent and life.
Why did you let yourself rot?
You decayed, from the inside out.
A rotten pumpkin, in late November. Crumpled and blackened, forgotten on a porch you don't belong to.
It's only days until they notice you. You molded, destroyed piece of art. Worthless now, they'll throw you out.
You'll be amongst the rest of the trash, where you belong now. Mixed in with the filth, disposable and pointless. Deteriorating until you're gone.

You could have been so much more. You really could have.

There's something

about you. when i look at you, sometimes i can tell how much you've loved in your life. i can feel how much heart you've given away. it's like there's bits of you missing.
All i want to do is catch them in the air, those bits of you, that are slowing gliding down through the air, like a feather. the wind holding the bits of you up enough that they don't ever land on the ground too hard.
Thank goodness they didn't shatter. Thank goodness you weren't made of glass, or maybe I would never see those bits of you, floating in front of me. Those pieces of love you've already let go of.
I wish I could catch them and keep them for myself. They aren't mine, though.
Even if I tried, my hand wouldn't grasp them. The feathers would float just past my fingertips, dancing around my hand. Teasing me.
They weren't made for me. I think I can learn to know that's okay. Because it is okay. It's okay that life may never let me have my own bits of you. A real part of me hopes it does. Wishes. But I can't control that. You can't either. And that's okay.
Because you'll keep loving and floating and loving. You'll lose more bits of you too.
But that's okay, because I will too.

Take me

with you, ducking to get into our cave we made with my pillow cases and old dresses.
my flashlight can light our way, deeper i crawl behind your feet, wrapped in socks
adventures, we never let them stop. edges of my sheets lead to loving, laid on the ground.
bells and pots and pans. silver spoons and rubie red dirt

I think

the key to life is destroying fear

The leaves

are letting go today. Driving this morning, each gust of wind brought a beautiful rainfall of orange and yellow leaves. I love how they dance through the sky. Kissing the edges of each direction they take. Fluttering past me. I reach my hand out, hoping to touch them as they glide through their journey to the ground, to sit, to rot, to be forever. Their lives are so futile. Water and sun birthed them through the branches. They grew green and strong and held on tight. The cool breezes and night freezes made them weak. Tainting their pigment, loosening their grip to their anchor branch. The wind gusts them away, resting them on the floor of the earth. They toss around and dry out, then get caught up in the soil some how. They decay. They desinegrate. Soon enough they are indesiferable from the rest of the ground.
Humans live the same way. Its as simple as that. Birth, growth, strength, life, then exposure to the elements. Weakness, then death. We fall from life and become part of the earth. Our limbs entangled with the roots of trees and old leaves. Eventually, our bodies are no different than the dirt on our shoes.
Its as simple as that.

There was this one day

In Yosemite that I love thinking about. Becky was tired and resting, Liz was getting work done and I decided to borrow her bike and explore the Valley alone. I was wearing my hiking boots, jeans, a black tank top, my grey cardigan, and a red hoodie.
There was a cold front that week for a couple of days.
I took my iPod and decided to listen to a band I didn't know well yet. "Why?"
Liz warned me once that week that there are sandy parts of the trails that are hard to get your bike over. I remember speeding up as fast as I could on that cruiser with low air pressure in its tires. Speeding ahead and lifting my feet from the petals, letting the bike slide through the fine granite sand.
I was listening to "Good Friday" when I stopped to take in this one view. Later that week Liz and I went walking through the field I had rested the bike on the edge of that day. We talked and cried and wished I wasn't leaving.
I kept riding, losing my breath, wishing I could ride for hours but knowing I'd need to turn around soon enough.
As I rode up to this one tree I love so terribly much, I was listening to "Song of the Sad Assassin." I think of that moment every time I hear that song.
The tree's home is on the edge of the river, its roots are huge and strong and come through the surface of the earth. I set down the bike and walked along the roots for a while. I looked at the water and took off my clothes. Just left my underwear and tank top. I didn't wear a bra the whole time I was there. I told myself I wouldn't anymore after I got back but a couple weeks after my return I caved into the societal pressure.
The water was only a couple feet deep. It was freezing. It was perfectly clear. I can't describe how that water looks, feels, tastes, smells, or makes you feel. Its magnificent.
I swam back and forth for a while. My body got used to the dreadful temperature. Its surprising how quickly your body adapts to extreme environments. Our bodies are amazing.
I floated on my back and stared at the sky. I wished I could see the perfect view of Higher Cathedral and the sky at once laying on my back. What to stare at? Such a hard decision.
I climbed out and used my cardigan to dry off. I looked around and slipped out of my underwear and into my jeans. My feet were wet and had dirt and sand on them so my legs felt gritty inside my pants. Shoes and socks. Shaking at this point. Teeth chattering inside my huge, inexcusably ecstatic smile. I felt so alive, alone and alive.
I rode back and felt like I was reentering something I'd recently left behind.

Alone and alive.