what can you do?

A thousand wishes reverberating in my head,
said by me
said by friends
unheard, unanswered.
written on paper, whispered to trees, whispered to me
unanswered.
a thousand little wishes, crying to be fulfilled
screaming to be heard and answered.
help will never come to paper on trees
or words whispered to the wind.

An Eye for an Eye Makes the Whole World Blind

Do you remember when the sky was blue?
Do you remember when the seas were calm?
Do you remember when we weren’t living a lie?
I wish I didn’t, but I do.

Do you remember when we didn’t breathe lies?
Do you remember when we had the same thoughts?
Do you remember when we were one?
I can’t unsee these images and videos and I can’t turn off the projecter in my head that keeps playing them.
Sometimes I think everyone can see them too.
Maybe then they would see what really happened.

I’ve only told one person.
Have you been asked about it yet?
I have.
It was awkward.
I have all these questions and you are like a brick wall.
Why?
Why did you tell people?
Are you that excited to be disassociated with me?
They say history repeats itself and I hope it does with us.
That way when you miss me I can make you feel as low as you are making me feel every day.
I know that’s petty but at this point, neither of us have eyes to take, arms to take or legs to take.
So I’ll take what you took from me: my feeling of self worth.

Head Rush

I enjoy looking at the world upside down because everything is different
and it's like looking at a whole new world
that's never been explored.
It looks like she's standing on the ceiling and balancing on the ceiling on one foot.
After a while your head starts to hurt but that goes away quick.
My favorite part is when you sit up all the blood rushes out of your head and you get a
head rush.

Dear Readers:

I am NOT attending AMP on Friday because:
Our arts council has failed to sufficiently promote or announce artistic events OTHER than AMP all year. Imagine how frustrating it was to not hear the play announced until the week of. Hello?!? We had been working on that all semester and AMP wasn't until FEBRUARY. Also, the day before Evening of Performances, the arts council made an announcement at class meeting about AMP. My friends and myself had to announce it ourselves. It wasn't awful, it's just not our job. We have representatives for a reason: so that they can REPRESENT something so that students don't have to go searching for information about them. There's more than just visual arts, people! Quite frankly, I'm sick and tired of hearing about AMP and I have no interest in attending. It wasn't very fun last year until the very end when DJ Swine Fork Beard played that remix of the Office theme song. And the Dollhouse finale is that night. I suggest that you don't support an arts council that doesn't help to better inform you, aka, DOING ITS JOB.
Sincerely,
peanut butter.

This is a tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are over looked, who become friends and nothing more. This is for the girls who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in anything they want to wear, who care more than they should for guys that don’t deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have watched other girl’s time and time again fake up make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the sea” to “time heals all wounds.” This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told they’re too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments, who have been confident on the outside but breaking on the inside. This one’s for the girls you can take home to mom. This is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart, only to discover that he’s just not ready, he might never be. This is for the girls who believed and waited. For the nights when you’ve returned home alone, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning in a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he’s with. This is for the “I really like you, you’re my best friend” comment after you read more into a situation then he ever intended. This is for the hugs you’ve received from your female friends, for the nights they’ve reassured you that you are beautiful, intelligent, amazing, loyal and truly worthy of a great guy. You have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we’ve believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we’ve ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don’t think that they deserve more, because they’ve been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys. And last but not least, this is for those of us who have grown up and realized that it’s all bullshit, and that we are worth more.

This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don’t appreciate them and don’t want them; who use them and think little else than where their next conquest will be made.

Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interesting and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful girls were you to give her your number and wait for her to call…and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would not immediately call your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you met the night before, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more of this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you’re not looking for a nice girl. You’re not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intramural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you’re looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it. So don’t say you’re on the look out for nice girls. Maybe nice guys finish last in the race they’re running, but they’re chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets…the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe you’ll realize that they are the ones that you want at the end of the silly race. So maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we’re waiting; however until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what’s a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)…sometimes the nice girls get sick of waiting.
-Jessica Leigh Griffith

Third Branch

Today I saw a picture of a tree. The tree had three branches coming out of the trunk. Two of the branches were intertwined and the third was leaning in the same direction but it was separate.

I wish I wasn't that third branch all the time.

I think that the amount of sadness that you feel when someone close to you leaves your life is directly proportional to the amout of happiness they caused when they were in it. When you decided to leave my life, I felt nothing. I guess that means you were a shitty friend and considering the way you are treating me now, I'm not suprised.

Re-Post: March 2nd 2009

So I found this and it is as topical now as it was more than a year ago:

Losing something, anything, is like losing a part of yourself. A small, kiss-sized part of yourself. It just flies off like the birds migrate in the winter. And trying to regain it is pointless because that piece is a living being and once it has left you it has died. Putting a dead thing back together is redundant and a waste of time.
I feel these lies falling from my lips and I try to stop them but they are so heavy with the weight of hours spent on the phone talking about our favorite lip gloss. Heavy from my guilt and all of the food we consumed while watching bad t.v. It saddens me, but it is dead.
So why even try?

The Curse of the Hopeless Romantic

I keep watching all these romantic comedies and I see these perfect guys,
you know the ones: attractive, funny, cute, rough around the edges, witty, etc,
and I can't help but wonder if my need to find my leading man is what's making me alone.
If trying to put him into all these categories is what's making me alone.
If wanting him to be the perfect guy for me is what's making me alone.
Maybe I'm right, in which case, I need some Ben & Jerrys.
But maybe I'm wrong and my perfect guy does exist...I don't know. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore...
If my perfect guy is out there, then I'm never going to stop looking.
I'm never going to settle for anything less than the attractive, funny, cute, rough around the edges, witty, etc, man comes along and sweeps me off my feet and we ride off into the sunset together.
And here's a message to my perfect guy (c/o the universe):
I'll see you there and I'll be the one with the goofy smile on.

As long as I have my dreams I know I'll be okay
because if I always know that I can escape
Then the trivialities of life don't seem quite so awful.

So my level of frustration with you right now is so ridiculous, that I could laugh.
I have actually laughed! Haha! (< SEE!)
I see you and I so want to help but I know that if I do
I'll only get yelled at.
It took me too long to figure that out.
If I can help, let me know.

200!!!

so this is my 200th post...wow...if you haven't already, check my tumlbr at www.rawritsphoebe.tumblr.com because i post my poetry and thoughts here but there are much more pictures there. I'm really glad that I was able to keep a blog for this long (200 posts!) and I hope that I'll make it to a year. Haha. Thanks for reading and if you haven't FOLLOW!
Copperboom!
peanut butter xoxo

Where Does the Good Go

Where do you go with your broken heart in tow
What do you do with the left over you
And how do you know, when to let go
Where does the good go, where does the good go
Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive
Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go
Look me in the eye and promise no love's like our love
Look me in the heart and un break broken, it won't happen
It's love that breaks the seal of always thinking you would be
Real, happy and healthy, strong and calm, where does the good go
Where does the good go
Where do you go when you're in love and the world knows
How do you live so happily while I am sad and broken down
What do you say it's up for grabs now that you're on your way down
Where does the good go, where does the good go

So I never thought I'd be quoting Nick Jonas here, but some lines from his new song just really hit me, so here they are:

"Now that the pain is done, no need to be afraid, we don't have time to waste, just tell me that you'll stay. Beautiful, one of a kind. You're something special babe, and you don't even realize that you're my hearts desire. Its hard to believe where we are now, your hand in mine feels right somehow"

Idk why, but it was just one of those things that really stuck with me.

today, i cried because i'm alone
and because i'm going to semiformal alone
and because i'm getting ready alone
and then i went in the bathroom to clean myself up
and i looked in the mirror and realized why i'm alone.

We Can Try

What would you say
if I
told you that all I've thought about
is you
since you been gone
I wish some way, some how
I could turn this world right back around
and mend mistakes I made.

So I could say to you that
I know things aren't quite like what they used to be
different faces, different places yeah.
We could try, oh yeah we could try.

What would you say if I
told you that I'm not givin' up
however long it takes
It's clear that things have changed
since when we started
but we can't just walk away, babe.

So I am telling you
that I know,
thins aren't quite like what they used to be
different places, different faces yeah
We could try, oh yeah we could try.

I know, things aren't quite like used to be
different faces, different places, yeah.
We could try, oh yeah we could try.

I know, things aren't quite like what they used to be.
Different faces, different places, yeah
We can try, oh we can try.

I know, things aren't quite like what they used to be.
different places, different faces, yeah.
We could try, oh yeah, we could try
I know, things aren't quite like what they used to be.
different places, different faces, yeah.
We could try, oh yeah, we could try