Waiting

One day, I will write a poem about you.

I will write about your whatever hair

and your deep brown-blue-hazel-green-grey eyes.

I will write about how attractive I find you.

I will write about your toes,

because you’re the only one

whose toes I love.

I will boast about the good you are doing

in your whatever career.

I will tell my girlfriends

everything you secretly want me to say

but protest to all the same.

I will write about your hands.

We will travel.

We will visit places,

and we will take pictures

to show to all our friends

when we return home,

victorious.

We will read in bed,

and we will watch movies

until our eyes grow heavy

and we melt into each other.

We will listen carefully

and think even more carefully,

and then speak with utmost care.

We will pick out Christmas presents

like our lives are on the line:

a beautiful whatever

for your beautiful mother.

A Long Road

"You can go govern some other little fucker's life."

Things like this tear a hole in me. They remind me that I deserve to be surrounded by people who respect me and who love me, because I am an interesting and caring woman. They remind me how this painful chasm came to be in the first place, and at times I am grateful.

But they also make me wonder who I am, what I am. They make me question my very self. They make me wonder how I got here, in such a place where the people I hold dearest feel they can say these things without any repercussions.

I have a long way to go, but things like this remind me to keep walking.

A Modern Woman Hitting the Fork for the First Time

^ Chernobyl
I'm starting to feel my life and my thoughts pulled in two very different directions, and I guess that's what being a modern woman is. Here's why:

I keep thinking about love and romance, and will it find me? Or will I find it? And if it finds me, how will I know? And how do I go about looking for it on my own? I'm terrified, because I'm really only fifteen years old in the dating world. I'm still hoping that I don't have to dress in high, high heels and deep cleavage for the gentlemen of St. Louis's nightlife to see me; I'm hoping they'll just see that I'm silly and interesting and want to talk to me because of that, not because of some carnal, testosterone-driven interest. And it kills me that even in this mode of thinking I'm torn in two directions. I want to move on from the radioactive debris that is my most recent (and only) relationship, but I'm constantly pulled back to it. Yes, I want to get married and I want to have children. And I want to have what two of my friends have... six years of solid love. But I lost that, and it's time to move on.

The other half of the modern woman is, of course, her career, and with my romantic life on hold until I graduate and leave Kirksville, the career end of things is more or less taking over. I want to graduate... NOW. I want out. I've had enough of academic institutions and simply being the show-pony through a flaming hoop for them. I need to get into my career, which, ironically, is the same damn thing. (Is this not the world's worst viscous circle?) I want to teach for good things, and teach the right things, and I want to get out there and do it already!

But first... I want to travel. For once, I want to do what I want more than anything in the world. For once, I want to feel like I'm in control of something. I want to feel alive, because I feel like a walking corpse going to class every day.

I just want to feel something. Everyone else has a passion. Am I burying my passion(s)? Or are they gone? Why does everyone else feel and I just sit here?

Please Help Me!

All I've ever dreamed of was traveling, and with your help it could be possible! Please, even if you're a stranger, and even if it's just $.50, any little bit will help! My plans are to tour Europe when I graduate college. Please help, it will be much appreciated!