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