Apples

Out - 03/18/10

Out

Please, someone get me

out

Railroad tracks stretching for miles

Why are they the only ones who are placed here

and make their way out?

Babies,

so many

too many

teenage mothers

so many,

too many

Empty streets

"for sale" signs

hung on broken dreams

Why are we among them?

We didn't choose this,

it chose us.

Visitors say "Quaint"

"Cute"

"Homely"

I say "Trap"

"Cage"

"Death"

Someone

Let me

Out

This cycle of chains

of bonds of poverty

Of a father behind a frier

making food for the greedy

but unable to get any to his own

table

The faces

the most haunting

the friends

Who are left behind

who become coal miners

who remain behind the peeling picket fences

who live to wander the streets

just looking for some dreams for sale

The friends

who wait for the results

who cry themselves to sleep

knowing they won't live much longer

he swears he feels the disease already eating him

worst birthday ever

My room

Is not a room

but another cage

My high school

is not a school

but a holding cell

Failures and burnouts,

extinguished like an old cigarette

an ember of hope remains

Until it is crushed under the foot

of Linton

I am not meant for this place

I swear

I will get out

I will wait until the door opens

Or I will open it myself

Then

I will run

Run away

Get out

Run until my lungs burst

until my feet fall off

Until I bash the doorframe

I will hold my dreams close

and not drop them

will not let them shatter along the wayside

like all the others

Until then

I sit in the darkness

I wait behind the peeling picket fence

But in my mind I am running

and I am screaming

Somebody

Anybody

Get

Me

Out

The Wax Frog

"So, you think black with green would work? Or maybe a tie?"

You didn't say anything.

"You're already late....They're all probably waiting on you. I mean, this isn't the best strategy to take when you land the lead role."

Once again, you were silent.

I stared at you from across your room. It was just like every other day....well, no it wasn't. It was opening night, you were the star, and you were already ten minutes late.

The oddest thing of all was that you didn't seem to care, you just kept staring at me with a far off glance. Then, you got up and walked over to me. Thinking that you were going to finally agree on your colors, I set the button-up shirt and pants down on your bed.

But instead, you reached in your pocket. You pulled out a wax frog and handed it to me, saying "There's a prince inside, you just have to shine a light on it and melt him out."

Suddenly, I didn't seem to care about time either. This wax frog seemed more important.

So I walked over to a lamp, and held the frog under it....and behold, a small prince exposed itself from the melting amphibian. He was a bright red, contrasting from the green of the frog; I tossed the frog aside and held the prince in the palm of my hand.

Then I had a moment of self-righteousness....I realized that I was right.

Everyone else said you were no good, that you were a terrible friend, that you had used me and didn't really care about the way I felt....but I was right, there was a prince inside of you. They had all seen you as nothing but a frog, a slimy creature that jumped from place to place and kept us all up with your insolent croaking....but they were wrong, they were all wrong.

I felt myself smile, and perhaps a tear or two brim my eyes....I turned to you and you came closer to me.

Then you kissed me.

It was undeniably awkward and unexpected, I mean, I was just there to help you pick out shirts for the musical you were late for, right?

It was crazy, but in the very heart of it was a sense of innocence that I hadn't seen in you before. It was almost as if you weren't trying to tell me that you loved me, you were trying to tell me that I was right about you....

That I had always been right.

You stopped the kiss and pulled away.

Suddenly, it was just like any other day....I handed you your clothes in a slight daze, you opened the door and then you were gone. Just like that.

I remember sitting there after you had left and wondered, "Could it really be that simple, and if it is that simple, why am I the only one who knows?"

I sat there and flipped the prince over and over again in my hand, feeling the indents and smooth lines embedded in the surface.

....

I woke up.

I wonder about this dream, it hasn't left my mind for days. However, now that I think about you....I think that you are not a frog, but a silly silly prince who has fallen head-first into a swamp.

And you know I'll come diving after you,

time and time again.

Here -03/11/2010- 12:17 A.M.

"I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I...I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time."

What does it mean to be "here"?

Maybe that's why I picked this title....because I don't know what it means. I wish I did, I thought I did--several times--but to no avail.

However, as time goes on, I believe I'm being shown what it means to live, to be here, bit by bit. It's like I'm trying to open a window in a dark room, little by little the light seeps in. But the window's heavy, and I feel as though I push and shove against the frame that weighs exactly as much as I do.

It makes me feel like I'm the problem sometimes...as if I am the only one stopping myself to see what's around me. But then, I stop myself and wonder if I want to see the world around me for what it really is. It's a scary thing to know the truth sometimes, and part of me would rather deal with the bruises of stumbling in the darkness than the exposed, nakedness that's revealed with the light.

I stepped outside to a beautiful spring day today. The sun's warm rays met my face, and I felt as though I had been away from an old friend for far too long. Warmth felt good, it felt beautiful.

I found myself on a swing set, propelling myself back and forth through the warm air. I look up at the sky and feel the sickening feeling of that drop in your stomach. You hate it so much, yet you love the twinge of pain, that bump in your stomach that makes you feel like you're not on the ground anymore, that there's nothing underneath you....you forget about the chains, you forget about the swing, and you might just end up flat on your back....but hell, it's magical....God, I feel like such a masochist when I swing.

I think back to another swing and a dark evening at Wessleman's, the flashing of a DDR screen, and coconut ice cream at Lic's.

I think of sitting by the river, sneaking glances at my own personal jukebox belting out his rendition of "Champagne High" and pretending I didn't hear so he'll sing it again.

I remember feeling like the ground wasn't underneath me anymore....I forgot the chains that held me and the security underneath me....but I remember holding my peace, keeping my mouth shut. That was me, I was just the listener. That's....why I was here....right?

But what if the peace wasn't peace at all? What if it was chaos?

What if....you couldn't keep your mouth shut anymore?

What if....you got it wrong about why you're here?

That's how I feel....like maybe I've gotten it all wrong. Like my identity as a home-town girl with nothing better than to sit and wonder about the outside world. I felt like I knew who I was, like I had discovered everything about myself that there was to be found. I wondered why all those who were older than me were still having mid-life crises and were still wondering what to do with themselves.

But then....I went away.

I went to a place where I was on my own. Where I was looking up at the sky, where my chains felt like they were gone. I felt sick to my stomach, I almost threw up....but then I realized....

I liked it

I liked the feeling of being out from under the earthly limitations that come with the package deal of being from a small town. For once I didn't know everyone, I was something new.

I was a slate, a blank room, and I could design myself however I wanted to.

This past year at school, I have searched myself to the deepest points. At times, I have loved myself....and at others, I've been unable to look into my own eyes in the mirror's reflection, because they really are the window to the soul. There were days when I spun down the hallway, and days I stayed in a crumpled heap in bed. I have felt my heart flutter and sink, long and be longed for.

There have been times that I have felt "in love" and there are times when I have felt utter loathing....it all varied on who I was that day, what part of myself I had explored.

So....I don't know if I have a destiny, I don't know what God has planned for me....or who exactly I am in Him, or this big world.

However, I do know one thing--chained or free--I am here, and I am still standing.

And right now,

that is all that matters.