I exist among a community of writers. Imagine that scene from Mean Girls- Cady Heron’s first day of school post-Africa, the one where she’s walking through the lunchroom analyzing the various cliques. If there were a table full of writers in the classic Lindsay Lohan film, we’d all be wearing quirky glasses, inquiring out loud whether or not our language is more effective in the past or present tense, and we would all be journaling.

I’m sure anyone without extensive knowledge of our lifestyle could conjure a cliche image of a writer mid-Starbucks taking up the entire table with their journals and Macbook, drinking something highly caffeinated and overstaying their welcome. This cliche is very much a reality. Like any other given profession or lifestyle, if you are a writer there are certain things you must do and be aware of in order to succeed.

One key element to being a writer is keeping a journal. I myself am a religious journaler. At least once everyday I sit down and take a short break from the world in total reflection. A journal is the rawest form a writing a writer can have aside from the initial jerk of creativity. I feel as though it is important that these pages of unedited writings are accounted for and appreciated in their rawest form - like viewing an underpainting or unfiltered selfie. In the next few blog entries I will be showcasing pages from my own personal journals. Please note before reading that you are about to be exposed to the most personal and most introspective aspect of my daily life.

March 24, 2016 1:29AM Rehoboth, MA

On FaceTime with A- I loved you once upon a dream

You have not a single clue as to what you are to me do you?

I try and try to tell you until my throat gets sore

But it has all been explained in one kiss

You haven’t a clue as to how beautiful you are,

Do you?

And perhaps that is the secret to all of the beautiful things in this life

That is what they must sacrifice

Us lesser people can’t fathom

In order to be beautiful

They must be unaware

March 24, 2016 1:08PM Rehoboth, MA

Written to: You Need Me Man I Don’t Need You- Ed Sheeran

Look what you’ve done

When the sun rose this morning

You were still on the phone

And when my eyes first opened

There was no peace

Although you promised me that it was all in our past

Fading like a car into the nighttime’s road

You said that every second after this one was brand new

It doesn’t really feel like it

But I promise you that I am trying

So desperately

You say you can’t see it.

You say you miss the bright and blue skies we once paraded under

Like the inner-city kids that screamed: “Kiss her, she’s so pretty”

To us, giggling from the top of a Manchester parking garage

Watching almost adults honeymooning and hand-holding

They all think: that will be me,

I will love and be loved and everyone can watch.

Can you believe we once lived as such horrifyingly stupid people

That were so painfully happy

So ignorant so naive

I wish there was a way to unlearn heartbreak

I can feel you leaving me

I wish the thought of tomorrow didn’t imprison me

Wish we could be happy like the kids on cereal boxes

Who don’t yet know what it is to be suffocated by your own soul

March 24, 2016 3:08PM

Rosa’s backseat, Ashley Driving- I think I’ll go to Boston

It is moments like these

So simple

So comfortably silent

There is music playing

Wind is blowing

Our destination is loose

All of our schedules are entirely open

And exclusively each other's

Night and day are equally youthful

And tomorrow is a billion moments away

We are so young

We should stop pretending

That we have actually lived

The notion that the best moments are behind us

In the trailblaze of this shitty Corolla we all settle

Is comical

Thank you universe for this moment

One that breathes fresh air down my spine

And infuses poetry into my bloodstream

March 26, 2016 3:17PM Manchester, NH

My dorm bed- Written to: The Dead Sea- The Lumineers

Nicest thing she ever said to me

I never understood why the song Steal My Kisses (Ben Harper)

Had such a long outro

But tonight in my mother’s car

High and without you,

I understand.

All of the pieces have fallen fast and into place

In just a moment

My perfect reality was actualized thanks to 45 extra seconds

That once made no sense to me.

Because although some claim

We are something improbable

And unlikely

Still we know that there has been at least one to drown

And make it to the deepest depths of the Dead Sea.

There are always ‘what if’s’

There is always some chance that the sky will stop falling long enough for us to breathe

And I will wait for a love that stops traffic

I will watch you break if I can watch you come together.

My life’s become nightmarish

You are my heart’s Jeffery Dahmer

You are my soulmate, Charles Manson

And the family is your love

All my veins read: Death to the pigs

What have I become baby

A quick Google search;

I am Andrew and Abby Borden

I am The Black Dahlia.

I am Bob Crane and The Boy in the Box

Eat your fucking heart out.

March 28th, 2016 3:33PM Manchester, NH

I wish that there were proper words to describe you

But no navigation of any thesaurus has ever proved it almost possible

There is nothing I can say of you

That doesn’t sound unmusical or forced

Because you are effortlessly lyrical

You are radiance in wartime.

March 30, 2016 10:31AM Manchester, NH

Reading Intensely with Timothy Horvath

Last night I held you while you lost yourself

I don’t remember if the moon was out

But I know that it must have been either full or not there at all

Were the stars dazzling and dizzying the pitch black?

It is so unlike me to not be in awe at 1am.

Instead I watched your insides break apart and off

So drastically your arms and legs might as well have been flying out into the stratosphere

It is so gut wrenching and gorgeous

To watch you unfold atop my newly fresh sheets

To watch your only blood pumping organ rupture

And spritz downward on my face and across your left wrist

It is so black and white-slow motion

So saddening how you could feel alone next to me.

Your hands were touching your face so aggressively

I can tell what you won’t tell me

You are fed up with what you are and what you are not

To think of everything at once is so dangerous dear

You must have felt like you were exploding

Like acid was just just poured all over you from above

You were almost metamorphosed and on fire

I am just in awe at 1am

Your tears whispered to me that you were nervous

Petrified that you will get hit by a car tomorrow

That anaphylactic shock will make your throat close up-

So tight and silent that you can't scream out into the void

The void that is this world that cut you into such small pieces

Your last words would be “you won.”

You are terrified to die because you have not lived

You are so lovely to keep hoping

So hideous for being so hard on yourself

Still I wish your stomach didn’t ache every time I looked at you with big eyes

Every time I tried and failed to articulate your radiance and watched your disbelieving face frown and say “stop.”

I wish you understood how hard it was for me to be so soft

In a world so frigid and unforgiving of me

Of you

Of us

I wish you knew heavy the truth was behind every syllable I said

I promise you that it is solid and golden

That the rest of them are jealous

Because it is easier to be jealous than confused

They have not a clue as to what it is like to what your love lose itself

To not remember if the moon was full or not there at all

To be in awe at 1am

March 30, 2016 3:00PM Manchester, NH

World Literature with Eric Pinder

Cliche: Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed

I walked to your Design class to bring you glue

And I watched Manchester’s street maintenance women

Paint over and over my graffiti

The one off of Elm that used to say ‘poetry’

I snapped a picture of this moment

To look back at when I’m greying

Proof that I once lived

I walked to class slower than usual

Wednesday afternoon in Springtime New Hampshire

All flourished but me

As I sat down and noticed what was left of the paint in the picture I just took

‘Try’

March 30, 2016 5:43PM Manchester, NH

Mr dorm bed- Poets are fatalists, overdramatic cry-babies

Who cares if my heart gets broken anyways?

It has before and it will again

A million times over before we perish

And after you break me open and let my insides dry out in the summer time

I feel it everyday

Every time the clouds cover a sunset

Every time dirt covers the snow

Afterall the mountains can’t make love to the stars

Streetlights worldwide will still flicker on and off and on and off

When we overpopulate and selfishly become extinct

When the waves fall hard and fast over humanity

I will not be there.

But know I’ll rest uneasily six feet deeper than I am right now

Underneath madness

Horrified at each of you and what we’ve all become

And how we just smiled and nodded yes

And let it happen

March 30, 2016 6:30PM Manchester, NH

A’s Painting Class

Tonight’s sunset fell across the cityscape like a black eye

And because of that the skyline would not forgive me or the stars

I tried to take the elevator home

But it instead started moving upward and endlessly against my will

I started counting the floors I travelled until I lost count

Until I was so far into outer space that I had no choice but to conserve my breath

It brought me past every planet

Went around and around Saturn’s rings twice

Which felt like shoelaces against my girlish figure

Abducted by some anonymous ghost of Christmases past

The atmosphere was so dry my throat got eczema

Church is not for the faint of heart

March 31, 2016 6:19PM Manchester, NH

Dorm Lounge- U w me?

If I tried to catch the wind

It would only run right through my fingers

It would never stop and listen

To me beg on my knees for it to please stay

It wouldn’t linger upon the words I miss you

It wouldn’t cherish my presence

Even if I wanted it to.

April 1, 2016 5:00PM Manchester, NH

I held onto her words

With super glued fingers

The sun poked me through the clouds in a godly fashion

Although I’m aware

It didn’t mean to be so damn beautiful

April 1, 2016 7:27PM Manchester, NH

I laid out in the middle of Mechanic Street

And just let her fucking pour-

She let out all her rain

Til she became a pitter patter against my skin

Pale with moonlight and washed out from the winter

April 3, 2016 12:38 Manchester, NH

An insomniac in love

Breathe for me baby-

Let your soul explain it all through exhalation

Show my body how to bare the unbearable-

How to endure my crumbling, violent mind.

Everything the world does breaks my heart

Without consent nor a flinch

The way I perceive life prevents it from furthering

I feel my days running out

Escaping me like a last breath,

A round clock on the wall spinning at three times the normal pace.

But tonight I’ve had a revelation:

Our souls must be immaculately intertwined

Because as I watch you sleep I myself have become sedated

With you dreaming next to me

The rest of the world can sleep.