more on my Heart

If a dream is a wish that your heart makes, then mine has been asleep for months.
It's woken up a few times since January, but never fails to fall back again.

Honestly this time is different. Maybe it only feels different because every time is different, you know?
But every time I see your face my Heart swells to 10x it's normal size.
Is it normal for my chest cavity to fill with butterflies at the sight of your name next to mine?

I've developed this habit of trying to hold my Heart.
My hands clutch at my chest, trying to reach it.
Maybe to shake it awake, to keep it from falling any further.
I can't tell how much farther it can fall before it hits the floor and shatters.
But the sight of your squinty-eyed, gap-toothed smile fills my Heart until it bursts,
And I have to try to keep it together, but my Hands can never reach it.

My Hands know their job. They fix things. 
They've been trying to hold things together since forever.
But they can't get a handle on my Heart. 
Nothing can, apparently. There is no reasoning with it.
I've decided that they only thing I can do is be ready to catch it 





right before it hits the ground.

this is why i'm trash

I gave up on blogging because who is going to read this any way

I gave up on reading blogs because I didn't know who was writing them

I haven't sat down and typed like this is so long

Because I thought about settling for someone who wouldn't even consider growing a man bun

Because I didn't do college and told people it was because of my anxiety when mostly I just didn't want to go to school

Because I've been rolling my eyes so often that it's become my resting face

I washed my darks two days ago and I still haven't folded them

When people ask me if it's hard working full time and I shrug and say "what else would I be doing?"

I was going to go to Greece

I got one of these One-Line-A-Day-For-Five-Years journals and I didn't even last a month

Because about once a week I sit down to write in said journal and try to think of what I did last Tuesday and I can't remember

Because I really want to go to some of Nelson's creative writing classes, but now I'm too old

And I also don't want to be that person who goes back to high school

Because I didn't know there was a SFYS Poetry Slam tonight and I went to Chick-Fil-A after work when I would have had plenty of time to catch the last hour of slams

Because when you graduate high school no one tells you just how awful Adult Life really is

Because I was going to find a gif to put on the bottom of this blog post but I'm too lazy to find one

BECAUSE WHEN I GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL I IMAGINED LIVING THIS WONDERFUL LIFE THAT WOULD BE AN ADVENTURE BUT I'VE BASICALLY BECOME MY WORST NIGHTMARE AND I'M SO RUSTY AT WRITING THAT I'M GOING TO END THIS BLOG POST BY SAYING THAT I'M TRASH AND I KNOW IT AND THAT'S IT.

"I MIGHT HAVE BEEN ASLEEP WHEN I WROTE THIS"

This isn't about how I quit college. And it's not about my mom telling me to go back in January. It's not about getting a degree. It's not about an income difference of $30,000. It's about me.

It's about the heart palpitations I had the night before I left, and it's about the fact that my roommate was tossing and turning all night and then telling me that she slept "fine". 

It's about being real. It's about waking up in the middle of the night and asking myself why I was there. What was I even thinking? It's about the sister who went to college for a year and is now a mother and a wife with no degree. It's about how she is okay.

It's about my #realtalk final and how Nelson told me that I probably wouldn't go see the world. It's about how on the inside I was like, "UHH WTF." But on the outside I was just like, "uh". It's about how I want to go to Milwaukee. 

It's about my Call to Adventure. It's about the Phantom of the Opera lesson and how we had to choose Art School or Business School, and how there wasn't another option. Well I just made one. This is about the Do Whatever You Want School.

This isn't about winging it. It's just about me doing what I want and everyone else minding their own business.

7.18.14

I wrote for myself today.

I sat down and I wrote.But in an effort to write for myself and not for the comments, I'm keeping it for me.I feel good about it.This has been long over due, but I don't know I felt like today was as good as any day to start something good, you know?

This is progress.And I am pumped.

CHEAP PANIC ATTACKS & DISHES

I went to Ikea with my mom the other day to buy dishes and forks and knives and pots and pans and etc..

Mom: Honey, which strainer do you want? This one is only $3.
Me: OH MY GOSH MOM PUT IT ALL BACK I CAN'T HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW.

***WHEN YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR YOUR OWN COLLEGE-STUFF/ADULT-LIFE-STUFF IT'S HARD TO NOT STRESS OUT AND HAVE PANIC ATTACKS.***

Right there in the middle of Ikea, I had a bonafide panic attack. Because like people need so much for college/life. I'm so cheap that I only bought one plate and one bowl and one mug. My mom told me that I should at least get two and I was just like MOM I CAN'T AFFORD TWO PLATES when in reality I probably could but I just couldn't handle buying two plates when I'm single and not really ready to mingle.

And then we went to go pick out some utensils and I was freaking out again because I had to buy four forks/knives/spoons because that's what came in a pack and tbh that's so annoying.

Mom: What else should we get today?
Me: OH MY GOSH MOM PUT IT ALL BACK I CAN'T HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW.
Mom: We can come back.

Oh my gosh I can't commit to dishes. 

You're the caboose to my train of thought

I'm exhausted and I don't know if I'm just not recovered from the four hours of skating at the all night party yet or if I'm just tired from working 35 hours last week.

And I'm quite upset that 35 hours doesn't count as full-time, not because I need benefits or anything but because every time I pick up my phone I find myself answering"Fitness Center this is Sammy how can I help you?" And I think that's important.

When I was introducing myself to my roommate via email I had to pause and ask myself what I wanted my name to be in college. Because anyone named Morgan can call me Sammy, and anyone named Mary can call me Samantha so what would people in college think about Sam? 

But I don't know how my name will sound in college, so I just went with Sam, because it's only one syllable and I like that.

I imagine this whole "roommate" thing is probably what an arranged marriage feels like. I wonder if girls get their future husbands name in an email. And I'm wondering if maybe they stalk those men via social network.

I wonder if my future roommate has stalked me. And I'm now sort of regretting  all the pictures I've posted of myself eating food. 

But only a little bit because like me eating a hot dog at work while telling people to have a good workout was so ironic and irony is my favorite.

Speaking of irony, I feel like compared to all of you I am so immature (I definitely googled how to spell "caboose"). But all the pictures on instagram and twitter of you kids in washing machines today have got me questioning that. 

Mostly because I've been doing my own laundry since sophomore year, so to all of you I say: good luck in college, I hope you've learned to separate your whites from your red socks.

A LIST OF ALL BOYS I HAVE EVER HAD A CRUSH ON

#realtalk

(In no particular order: a list of boys I have, at some point in my life, had a crush on.)

• Hunter (I can't remember a last name?)
• Erik Ostrom (what girl didn't?)
• Matthew Solomon (just because he loves fishing)
• Tyler Hunt (his school spirit though)
• Cole Walton (seventh grade)
• Jace Gibb (duh)
• Grant Lyman (duh)
• Karl Anderson (pre-Loni phase)
• Hudson Schmucker (the classroom video)
• David Jensen (chemistry, literally)
• Matt Carter (his taste in music is just wow)
• Connor Bush (like he's just cool)
• Connor Bartlett (the hair)
• Garrett Lewis (the hair/jawline)
• Jed Thunnel (the hair/overall coolness)
• Roah Besinger (the hair/poetry)
• Jake Irving (too nice toooooo dang nice)

This was fun (weird).

Stay Gold Boys.

LETS TALK ABOUT HOW I'M OVER YOU BUT MY SUBCONSCIOUS ISN'T AND HOW THAT'S SO ANNOYING

You were in my dream a few nights ago,

And since then I can't get you out of my head.

I've been trying for a year now to put what happened to us into words.

But I tell you what--it is so hard.

Not because it hurts,

Or because there's too many feelings.

I'm having such a hard time writing about you

 because I'm trying really hard not to say the word douche anymore.

I'M A PEACH

There's a Pit in my stomach that no one wants to deal with.

I'm not sure if its there because I only have 5 days to finish that online PE class that's required for me to graduate,

Or if it's the fact that I might not graduate.

Or it's there because I'm probably going to graduate.

It's also very possible that its there because I'm worried about all the attendance schools I have to go to because I hate going to school.

But I only went to half a class yesterday.

So The Pit must not be that important if all it takes is two girls, one red jeep, and thirteen books to make me forget that it was even there.

stay gold,

(and peachy)

suzy e.

THINGS I H8 < U

standardized tests.

petty fights and miscommunications.

public bathrooms.

spilling ketchup on a white shirt.

the ACT.

cats.

bell-bottoms.

waking up early.

tomatoes.

voldemort.

sun burns.

blisters.

spinach.

squirting lemon juice in my eye.

breaking a bone.

getting hit by a car.

skydiving without a parachute.

stubbing my toe.

losing monopoly.

obama.

taxes.

burnt pizza.

space cats.

winter.

the end of Fault In Our Stars.

being punched in the face.

ripped pants.

school.

your trendy shoes.

your pretty little bangs.

your ex-boyfriend's nose ring.

that level of candy-crush i can't get past.

what happened in november.

how long it's been since i've seen him.

how much you don't care.

H8 U.

over it,

suzy e.

MIND THE GAP[S]

I had a gap in between my teeth as a child.

Not the, "Oh my, how chic of your teeth" kind of gap,

But a "Oh my, you look like a walrus" kind.

My parents/orthodontist decided to close that gap.

But I've found that since that one gap has been closed,

twelve more have opened.

Gap #1: the gap between me and boys, I actually can't flirt to save my life.

Gap #2. the one that teenage angst has put between my parents and me.

Gap #3. the one between where I am and Peru.

Gap #4. the 20 minute gap between where I was a year ago, and where I am now.

Gap #5. the gap between me and happiness (high school).

Gap #6. the gap that was between me and people I thought were my friends.

Gap #7. that gap that was there a year ago in third period.

Gap #8. the gap between where I am now (my bed) to where I want to be (my fridge).

Gap #9. the gap that is between me and my diploma (online P.E.)(also sleep).

Gap #10. the gap between me and college ($$$$$).

Gap #11. the one that separates me from my friends who like me (work).

Gap #12. the gap that allows me to waste hours on end (depression, probably).

But there was one other gap that closed, once.

The gap between my head and your chest.

The gap between your arms and my shoulders.

The gap between your heart and mine was a lot smaller on 

July 21.

It was practically non-existent.

I would be willing to let all previously mentioned gaps 

double in size,

If we could only have another 5 seconds on July 21.

STAY GOLD,

SUZY E.