his name is bud.

his name is bud.
he has a round rough face.
his fingers shake and his knees are now to weak to hold his weight.
his white hair is combed neatly to the side each day.
his left eye twitches and his glasses catch all his tears.
he is tough and his gaze looks had and unforgiving. but he is just sad and exhausted.
there is a wrinkle by his lip, he says it has been there since the day he met Bessie.
the wrinkles in between and above his eyebrows were left from all the hours spent worrying and caring for his family.
the wrinkles on his hands and up his arms each tell a story of his seemingly endless days and short nights.
he misses Bessie more each day and you know his heart aches more than his bones.
his smile may not be as full as it once was but it is as sincere as ever.
his hugs are weak and when he holds you he let's you hold all the weight.
to many is it only the crusted eye, thin and bruised skin they see. but he is so much more than that,
his name is bud.

I'm really over this whole high school thing.

So that jealousy post...I should probably do it so my grade isn't a C anymore.

It came at the time when I just no longer cared about anything...even the one class I loved the most.

But no one wants to hear my son story.

Also to tell you the truth...I don't get super jealous of poetry. I wish I did. Promise! Cross my heart and hope to die! I really do wish that I when i read poetry that I could feel crazy good vibes or intense emotions. But I just don't. 

I guess I'm jealous of any of you who get that way. 

I'm jealous of you kids who devoted your time to this class. 

I'm jealous of the ones who really knew how to write.

I'm jealous of Nelson's favorites. Nelson is a cool guy, he really knows what's up. 

*no one really wants to read this Dorothy. Stop embarrassing yourself*

 -Dorothy or Casie. You can pick.

his name was tom.

I remember when Wednesdays were for swimming and Saturdays were for cartoons and mowing the lawn and doing my laundry. i remember playing dress ups and making Caleb wear dresses and heals and how he started liking it. i remember how i always forgot my tooth brush when i went to grandmas house and how she always had one for me in her guest bathroom. i remember when i broke my arm and my mom just told me to take a nap. i remember my first cellphone, it was pink and it had preset ringtones and an antenna. i remember telling Brandon St. Clair i liked him and how he didn't like me but he never told me. i remember the first time i skipped school. i was hungry. i remember my first part in a school play and how i never wanted to do that again. i remember how when my grandma Normon calls its only for my mom. i remember the first time i swore. i was crying and it only made me cry harder but the second and third and one hundredth time it didn't bother me as much. i remember hating lotion because i thought it made me slimy. i remember how insidious was stupid but it still scared me and i watched the second one for a boy. i remember the first time i saw my mom cry and it was because her baby boy died 24 years ago. i remember the first and last time i kissed him and how both times i regretted it. i remember how i'll always love him but i wont always be in love with him. I remember her face as it sat still and her sister cried and told me how she remembered me. i remember my first stake dance, getting sweaty and her dad getting polled over. i remember losing the pink and white tank top and i was sad because my mom would never buy me a tank top again. i remember how we saved our lemonade in our closets and it got hot but we still drank it. i remember how jaw breakers were for smashing because they really taste like chalk and i remember memorizing the lyrics to girls night out by Miley Cyrus. i remember the day she was born and chewing on bubble gum cigars in the waiting room. i remember the first time a resident i cared
about died. i remember my first bloody nose and how my sister stayed up with me until it stopped. i remember December and how you were cool and she still liked me and no one was moving and senior year was only half over. i remember how things change and how i use to care and now i just don't.

CHANGING ATTITUDES

forget the top two. I don't like them. 

*FIX WHAT IS BROKEN

WE SPEND OUR WHOLE LIVES PACING 

FAILING* 

*IF YOU LIKE YOU

KEEP IT*

I'm Tired. I'm Disappointed.

my fingers are numb and my head is killing. days are becoming routine and nights seem shorter and days feel never ending. sleeping has to be scheduled like work and hanging out with friends has to be planned. I tell myself I have to study and it's only one more month but before I know it, its the next morning in first period and i'm telling my teacher another lame excuse as to why I didn't do the assignment. Homework is just busy work and assignments don't seem real. my grades are anywhere from a B- to two F's, a C-, D+ and NC.  I'm exhausted and my parents only talk to me to get me out of bed and remind me that graduating is a  necessity *like I don't already know that*. I'm tired. but I am also really disappointed in myself. it feels like I wasted my senior year on Netflix, and wanting to stay home or on petty fights, stupid boys and procrastination. 

I thought I was going to be one of the class favorites and I was going to love writing on my blog and I would devote all my time to reading posts and putting my pen to paper and just letting my feeling flow out. I thought that because my mom, English teacher and best friends loved what I wrote that I was going to be a natural in this class. but I let my procrastination, my teen angst, lazy and disinterest in all things high school get in the way and now I hate myself and i'm trying but it seems like i'm too far behind to catch up.

I told myself this post had to be good. it had to impress and it had to be real and it needed to be funny and it had to have killer poetic lines in it and then I just started complaining and feeling bad for myself and its getting long and it doesn't sound good. I'm rambling. I'm tired. I'm disappointed.  

Waiting to graduate like

HOW TO BE A PROCRASTINATOR IN 10 EASY STEPS. by an expert.

1. ignore all responsibilities until the last minute.

2. take a much deserved break after your long day of sleeping/skipping most of school.

3. get on twitter, instagram and/or snapshat (surprisingly you can waist a majority of you life with these. crazyy who knew?? don't have these...WHO THE FLIP R U??)

4. go in search for new GOOD music or books or tv shows. you have this whole month to turn in hw and all that stuff that will determine whether you graduate or no. like no biggie. prioritize.

5. play that new "thinker" game, 2048. it's super important and you really need to get to 2048 rather than study for you AP tests. am I right or am I right??

6. go buy delish food and like take a hike and find yourself. you're running out of time. high school and dead lines can just take a chill pill. plz.

7. take loads of NEEDED naps. they will keep you refreshed and ready for what life throws at you.(b/c life is a witch and will def be throwing fast balls. the naps are a necessity)

8. tell yourself you'll do your hw before 10 and then don't start it until like the next day. haha bc yolo

9. tell yourself slurpees will help you focus. BUT NEVER GET MANGO WITH A KICK. it is so nasty and it does not help you focus. it only brings a fiery pain in your throat.

10. just stop caring.

convinced i'll be forgotten.

it's on my mind, i cant help but wonder.

why do I push people away?
why don't I learn how to swim?
...maybe drowning would be less of a fear.

why do I hate living at home?

why do I feel so sad and alone?

why did I tell her she wasn't worth it anymore?
I hate that I miss her.

why are my eyes filling with tears and stinging?

why does space and the sky at night scare me so bad?

why do I feel so fake?

why do I find comfort in trashy rap music?

why wasn't I good enough for him?

why don't I want to go to college?

why did I think it was ok to swear at him?

why didn't I just try and figure it all out sooner?
WHY DO I HAVE A FEAR OF COMMITMENT?
why do I hate orange juice and chicken so much?
why did she have to say those things, and write them out for so many to read?
I know I deserved it.
why does it hurt?
why after we die do we have to live for so long?
why does he do drugs?-does he know he's throwing his life away?
why don't I care about the important things anymore?

-Dorothy Breeze

 

 



dear self. pay attention.

if I could send a letter to the old me, this is what it would say.

Dear December Dorothy,
I know right now life seems pretty sucky, but I'm here to tell you it only gets worse. and only because you're a real brat.
**you've been a crappy friend this year.** and if you don't get your act together you're going to throw a lot of amazing people away. trust me, you're going to regret it.
you think you know everything...NEWS FLASH. YOU DONT.
stop wasting your time. Netflix is a sucking hole that eats, swallows and spits out your dreams in a blink of an eye.
stop being so lazy.
i know you're sad. and maybe depressed or just confused. but girl, you're not the only one.
get over yourself.
I know you don't think you were using him, but you were.
stop wishing he'll change his mind.
apologize to her. for it all. she deserves it.
you're going to cut your hair because you think it'll be a fresh start, well sorry, but it doesn't work out like that. your hair is just different and its just another reason for her to hate you.
don't go hang out with him and get slurpee's and cuddle in the back of your car, it'll just make you miss him in the morning. and 3 months later, you'll still be missing him.
tell your mom how much you love her.
remind your dad you're listening to what he's trying to tell you.
you only have a few more months with them.
don't buy that gray skirt or the white shoes, you never wear them. you need the money.
stop telling everyone you're ok.
stop worrying.

don't you remember when people liked you because you were the nice girl and you were friends with everyone?? look around you, in a few months, they wont feel the same way.

floss more.
stop eating empty calories and crying in the shower.

**p.s. your best friends house sold and you guys aren't going to be neighbors for the rest of your life like you always planned.

-Dorothy Breeze

uh can i get high school credit for rambling??

i hate scary movies with churches and people sitting in the pews with their backs to the screen. the anticipation of whether they're dead or planning a surprise attack to kill you, makes me cringe and cower in my seat every time.

mumford and sons will always remind me of his face and his blond un-brushed summer hair.

the sound of waterfalls and the sent of lavender can calm me in seconds.

my bed squeaks and my door doesn't stay shut.
the reasons why i can't ever fall asleep pile up like my worries and confusions.

the sound of blow dryers early in the morning are like the call to the devil and his demons to come and take me.

i hate the word moist. it makes my stomach twist.

as often as i cry about feeling alone. i love not having to impress anyone or make small talk.
i get to stay in the comfort of my warm bed and just think. or not think. which ever is less painful.

dying scares me. and i'm pretty sure eternity is a real thing. but i wish it wasn't.

i'm a paranoid rebel. if that's even possible.

blueberry pancakes are overrated. the blueberries just ruin a potentially perfect pancake.

i'm curious as to what type of drunk i'd be and  i wonder what weed tastes like....if it even has a taste?

i hate throwing up. the acid coated throat, achy arms and disgusting desire to fall asleep on the cold tile bathroom floor seems worse than just being sick.

i wish i knew how to write poems and beautiful sentences that flow and make people cry or smile or feel something. i wish i knew how to write the real things.

i'm worried i'm messed up and that i'm disappointing my parents.

i got a c+ in math and i was pulling out the sparklers to celebrate. WTFLIP

i want to lose myself. i want to figure out who i really am.

i've been told a lot that i'm awkward. and i make people feel weird.
i honestly have no idea why.

i know i could write more. but i get the feeling this isn't worth reading.

xoxo
-Dorothy Breeze







  


 

mah bones told me to

my bones are telling me to write the words that drowned my thoughts. they're telling me to let it go and forget the worries that tie me down and hold me back.

my bones are telling me it's ok.                                            
it's ok to cry.                                                                                                                 but crying hurts my mom.  to be sad and feel alone.                                                                                        

my bones are screaming at me to forget the pains and to move on with life.
my bones are telling me to take the leap and embrace the risks.

my bones say I won't know without trying.

my bones are telling me to do the things that scare me the most. sometimes listening to my bones scares me the most.

my bones are telling me to just be happy.
my bones are telling me it's ok to be angry. just not for forever.

 

my bones are telling me to DO WHAT I WANT.

 

my bones are telling me not to wait.



 



a letter to all the things I wish I knew how to kill

Dear flaws and teenage angst,

you're like demons in my head. 

you're like chills down my spine. 

you're the growing pains in my legs and the swelling at my hips. 

SO HERES TO YOU. 

A LIST OF THE THINGS I WISH I COULD JUST KILL LIKE THE FLOWERS IN MY ROOM. 

death to being fake. 

death to the little things that upset me.

death to all the times I hurt someone intentionally or not. 

death to the feeling of failure after a mistake. they happen and life goes on. 

death to the petty fights and miscommunications. 

death to slacking off and waiting for a break. 

death to my seemingly repelling attitude.

death to high school expectations. 

death to sleepless nights and painful aches. 

death to the hard days that never seem to end. 

death to the heartaches. 

death to wasted tears and sweaty palms. 

death to the regrets. 

-Dorothy Breeze

 

I hate that I never went to say hello

It was a Thursday. All I remember were the tears. The crowded hallways, the kids forever affected and those who would never know.

I never went to say goodbye.

And I regret that. every time I think of her. I never believed I wouldn't get the chance. I didn't cry that day. 

just like her, Thursday came and went. Friday was inevitable and so was death. 

Thursday brought tears like rain showers.

 

The notebook I wrote my apologize to the family and my favorite memory of her made me think I could never do her justice.

 

She was sweet. She was unique. She knew life and I know that's why she got to leave early. 

I miss her smile. I miss her hair. Her jokes and laugh that could make a gray sky blue.

 

I knew her when our problems were smaller and dying didn't seem so real. 

I went to the funeral alone. I walked with caution and I was scared to see her. 

It was slightly raining but the sun was shining bright. It was perfect. 

As I reached the casket I hugged her sister and only glanced in. 

I didn't cry that day. I didn't and haven't cried about it any day after. 

Why didn't I cry? 

I miss her. 

I never knew how real dying was until that Thursday. 

-Dorothy Breeze

fearful futures lead to regrets.

I am afraid of being swallowed up. spit out. forgotten.

 

 

 

 

like gum, coloring books, old carpet, newspapers and plastic cups.

 

I am afraid of being forgotten.

 

along with my dreams and goals.

 

realistic or not.

 

I am afraid of being swallowed up. spit out. forgotten.

 

I am afraid I wont be wanted.

 

graduation will come. and go. sun burnt arms and un-brushed hair will be welcomed. but I am afraid the car payments, college books and bills will replace leaving here and going to India, China or the Philippians.

 

ringing ears and red eyes.

 

looking in the mirror and not seeing me.

 

it scares me. it makes me sad.

 

sweaty palms and sleepless nights lead to fearful futures.

I have sweaty palms and sleepless nights.

 

I am afraid.

 

I am afraid of losing me. I am afraid of forgetting about Dorothy.

 

I am afraid of staying tired and anxious or growing comfortable.

 

neither seem too desirable.

 

I am afraid of waking up with stretch marks, grocery lists and a minivan. I am afraid of ending up somewhere I never wanted to be.

 

pretty faces grow old and the wrinkles carry the memories.

expose the pains and hides the soul.

 

I am afraid of being swallowed.

I am afraid of being spit out.

I am afraid of being forgotten.

I am afraid of being forgotten.

I am afraid of being forgotten.

 

-Dorothy Breeze