Vanillamoonlight

July 10. 2017 HIM pt. 2 There he sat, with his hoodie on and hands digging into his pockets He sat unnoticed and unbothered Inside those pockets he fidgets with his hands, moving his fingers around his sweaty palms It was when she turned to give him a piece a paper that he no longer went unnoticed His hoodie was hiding the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen They looked at her and she saw his long eyelashes protecting his honey eyes She saw the chiseled nose that Zeus made himself and oh his lips They parted to thank her and from then she just had to have him His eyes told her everything his lips couldn't part for His arms wrapped around her body and held her with the promise of never letting go Every stroke through her hair swayed her into his arms for there she was warm and safe The way he laughed for her was the most beautiful thing she had experienced He had such unique ways of telling her how much he loved her He cocked his head back and let out a roar of ...

It all started with a kind proposal. On one fine Tuesday, I was facetiming little miss lady while she, unbeknownst to me, was rolling two joints for us to smoke in the near future... more specifically later that night. I had asked her if she would like to go to Yosemite with me, and she slowly replied saying she’d think about it. The pause in her answer was due to the idea restlessly sitting in her head, because she had just asked her mother if they could go to Ikea on Saturday. She wanted to go as a little family adventure to get things she needed to fluff her new triple dorm to make it feel as though she wants to be there. But there the idea stood, perched in the front of her mind. We continued to Facetime and eventually, she got me to drive halfway to go see her. We met in the heart of Orinda, parking in a lonesome parking lot. She asked me to fill her in on more detailed logistics of the trip. While explaining to her that my cousin invited me on a trip to our family’s cabin in th...

I don't go home a lot. People seem to find that weird, or I think people find it weird, I'm not sure which one it is. It's probably both. I don't go home a lot because my sister is a brat, who doesn't appreciate anything that is done for her, and never helps my mom clean the house. I don't go home a lot because my mom is too much. I don't want to say she's crazy because I know she isn't but the way she reacts to situations is always with anger. I kind of understand why she's like that, she has a lot of hurt in her heart and no other outlet to help her. I don't go home a lot because my family just doesn't understand that their problems and their constant bickering is not what I need in my life.

I am a survivor. I am strong. I am brave. I am compassionate. I am beautiful. It's been almost been a full year since the worst thing that happened to me, happened to me. I have spent the last semester building back my GPA from my shit show of a first year in college. I got 2 As and 2 Bs. I have grieved from friendships that I have lost. I finally found a job that respects my time and effort. Even though it started off really rough and I hated going to work, I have started building a connection to one of the kids. I went to therapy my first semester back and that helped so much. That might be the missing piece to my puzzle right now, but I think love is too. I have spent so much of my life running away from my family. I do not know why I do it, but it probably has to do something with Sophia. Because once she was born, it was like everything changed. We moved cities, I started to attend a public elementary school where I was informed about the ins and outs of sex and c...

I’ve been clean for 4 weeks now. But it doesn’t mean I don’t think about rolling a fatwood up every now and then. Which I think is pretty normal. I have therapy in an hour, so let’s see how much I can write after taking my meds and eating a bowl of yummy Cheerios! I’m going to go pick up the rest of my things from college. The place where people go to get high & get a degree. I remember walking up a hill, to see a bunch of high schoolers circled around a “dab ringe” and getting off the phone with tbeir mommies saying they were on their lunch break. One of the saddest memories I have from last year was actually in the dorm my things are currently in. It was a Saturday; me and my girls strolled up to lil boo at the time’s party. As the night progressed my bestie knocked out my boo’s bed and I was still dancing and chatting. We were in a double, which is a dorm with two beds, and this girl started talking about wanting a baby. I had just had an abortion exactly a year ago. Whe...

I’ll start with the end, like any masterpiece. Saint Mary’s College of Moraga, Salesian High School, and every other UC, CSU, or catholic private facilities are palaces that harbor genuis minds and lost souls. They  create the socially impaired,  visually impaired, and recklessly behaved.

The Now It's really interesting to think about the end result of something, before anything starts. My temporary therapist Timothy posed scenarios about the boys next door. Either setting boundaries and stay on friendly hang out terms. Or go somewhere sexual. And jezzzz, I think him saying that to me is so testing. Like I want to be able to just have guy friends or to go over their house and chill and not feel as though I need to worry about anything. But lemme tell you, some how Sean Smith has caught my lucid attention. I know he is very narcissistic however grown as hell, well I thought he was. Something about him keeps my gears turning. I have recently been diagnosed with depression. It’s a new label to add to my list of accomplishments. Due to my depression, I find myself not smiling to often, and I really haven't been feeling myself lately. I get fatigued, or tired out, so easily when conversing with others. I no longer have the confidence of sophomore year me, when I ...