oh my god

I will trace your voice and follow it through the cracks like a wire to the wall. I will pull you out from beneath by the sound of you calling and I will hold you like my own and love you like only I could. I won't stop to cry; remain in the light. I will not hold back from kissing your forehead or pulling off the sweaty, greasy strands off from it. This isn't a wreckage and we can pull ourselves out of this one. I'm down the street, at the end of the road, the streetlights are turning on, flickering to life like fireflies, the sky's electric blue vanishes, a black velvet cape covers itself and brings out the latterned stars. I'm standing on a corner, turning left, running down the road to your house, and you don't know it, the blisters on my feet throb and burst with blood but I keep on going towards your house and I don't stop, not even when my breath is catching up to me. This is it, this is all I have in my heart and I have to get it. I hear your voice and I follow down the road near the river, the cars pass me by and their speed hits against my frail frame but I keep pushing. I'm a mess, I'm weird and crazy but I don't care what anyone thinks of me with my bookbag hitting against the sweat dripping down my back cause I know I have to get to you to fall beside your knees so I can look up and see you smile so I can feel my smile come across my face. No one knows what I go through and it isn't because I'm embarassed, no one would understand the length of love and determination I find inside myself I must let out. This lion in it's weary cage, it's restless paws and scream. I must let this all out. I am stepping over long patches of grass, feeling things crawl up my scrawny legs but I don't even bother to get them off, my heart is racing like my legs, I won't stop to look around, I am running away from my dreary reality, I am going to end up inside a little house with whiskey fueling my little tank, preventing me from being boring, giving me my stories their time to be told. So I speak loud and I tell everyone proud I am in love and I am not scared anymore of the future. I am not scared to be hurt, but I know at least my love is honest and at least I'm an honest being. I am beyond pure, I am untouchable. I can now see the edge of this road winding, I look up to the bridge and now I am so close I can taste the salt on your skin and the dirt on your fingertips and I can the television and the little voices coming from inside. The house is so close that I go over the bridge, alone, trying to fight off feeling strange and I am past the grocery store and the little strip malls and I am going to keep going. Maybe you won't be too mad. If someone made me as unhappy as you think you have, you think I'd be fucking insane enough to walk this far and long to see them.

I don't even know what I'm saying. Kerouac said..“Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.” I owe a lot to Kerouac, it's kinda funny what words do to your brain and the movement of your heart and arms and legs and heart. I just wanna leave, I wanna go. Just go, leave. I don't care about money or yelling or responsibility. But it's funny now I am trying to get it together for myself so people will love me raw instead of seeing me as some silly, lose, careless little girl. I think I am tired of being seen this way because they all forget who I am and how strong I honestly am.

It isn't like you'll read this, maybe you will. I don't know, you haven't read my stuff since last fall. Other than my paper last week which was impersonal. You read a year and a half of my life straight through. You were there with me blacking out and hitting the kitchen floor, you were holding my hand during my cat scan and laughing after the cops left not giving me a drinking ticket or taking me home to my parents when Iwas fifteen, you were going 80 around curves of the roads with my friends and me, marijuana flowing out the windows, and you sat on my bed with me and listened to music all summer days and read Ginsberg's "Howl" with me. I miss that connection.