and learn to fly.

i am done with my graceless heart.

i am hungry for life

i am lustful for adventure

and i will eat, systematically, all the roadblocks before me. 

if you think i possess some brilliance that i haven’t taped into yet, 
say it.

if you think i will never be enough,
say that too.

speak to me.

freely.

openly.

honestly.

i do not have the patience for the world constructed around me.

it’s not that i’m better than it,
it’s just that, perhaps, i wasn’t cut to fit it.

so sue me.  

would you have it any other way?

somedays, i’m sure i’ll die young
and leave behind a history of catty remarks
and callous requests for attention and permission and light

i’m convinced we can fit the sun in the vein of a spider’s left foot
you know, the one closest to the ground

i’m sure i’ll die young

i’m sure i’ll die young

i’m sure i am young and have nothing new to say to you

i’m convinced the moon turns on that axis just to offend the other planets

it says, look at me! not a star not yet a stagnant mass of rock in this milkway
the way you’re destined to be
the moon is an opinionated one

it tells me when to bleed
when to howl
and when to look out my window and wonder why i’m still alone
after all these years of loaded smiles and emptied triggers

the guest list for a pity party is fairly short
so we save on snacks and alcohol
but not on party favors and playlists
it’s always a challenge
to dance by yourself
and not step on anyones toes

i’m sure i’ll die young
but i’m more sure i will die in a bed all my own
all alone
all composed
all cold

it’s bound to be winter when i bite the dust

it’s bound to be winter when i make up
this story
about that one time i was sure i’d die young
and i was absolutely sure the planets had thoughts
and even more sure that you make me more angry than any one person should have the
capacity to

yes, i’m definitely talking to you

somedays, i’m sure i’ll die young
but i will take you with me
and the worms will feast on our animosity
and the newest planets will be composed of our grumpy bones
and bloody stones in our bellies

i will eat you alive, young man, i will eat you alive

if only i could get that super nova out of that spider’s foot
and into your left eyelash
then the glint in your eye
would be all mine

and i wouldn’t care if you were evil

so long as you’re young and decaying

i’m sure we will die young

but i’m not going out alone

and you cannot sever anymore limbs from this rotten body
because i left them all in your bed
all my limbs are in your bedlam

the universe has this thing called a chaos theory

and everything is moving towards entropy

so explode already

you’re bursting at the seams

somedays, i’m sure i’ll die young
and leave behind a history of narcissistic building plans
and untouched lips
thousands and thousands of untouched lips.  

and the arms of the oceans came washing over me.

boards, in less than a week. we perform monday. i’m in the second nine of monologues, and second to last for scenes. have i mentioned this before? oh well. we ran it in front of people yesterday and i had a minor regression. okay, major regression. but i’m getting it back. i know exactly what to do, and now just have to do it. taking control of my life. for sure. working everything out of my monologue today. between juliet and lindsay, i’m determined to be fearless. to make good work. to show what i’m capable of. to show growth. above all, growth.

it’s literally all that occupies my mind. boardsboardsboards. i’ve gone to bed before midnight since coming back to cincy on sunday. i work, and sleep. nothing in between. such joy.

last night, shaun helped me realize a few things inhibiting my work. they were things i ‘knew’ but wasn’t conscious of or would say aloud. taking that from yesterday, i’m moving through the rest of the week with positivity and hope. and sobriety. a lot of that.

maybe this just makes me feel better.

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

-Rosemarie Urquico.