(green)sboro.

I want to sit in a field of open green. The kind of grass that never itches; only provides something soft for you to rest upon. I want to sit in a field of zero trees and zero bugs and the perfect kind of lighting for a book. The kind of green that lets you know that it could be your home if you'd simply let yourself relax within it's open arms; but reading seems far too bizarre. The kind of green that makes you feel like where you are is the greenest side that could ever be; that no fictional universe could compare to the place you're sitting.

I want to sit in a field of open green and open possibilities.
The kind of green that lets you know that you could run, and you'd have such a clear pathe that nothing could stop you. Nothing could catch you in time to bring you back.

The kind of green that lets you know that you could run, but makes you feel like having a nap instead.



Waking up here isn't so bad, but it's certainly no field of possibility.
When I look at it objectively, I'm on the greenest side.

"you can do your homework while i'm gone."

I've got it bad.

420.

I wish I lived in Virginia.
I could attend ODU with out it being out-of-state.

I miss the way it looks in April.
I love the look of the grass and the crunch of the leaves, and how if you go right you can hit the beach. If you go left, you can get lost in a city, and if you simply weave forward for a little bit then you can relax in the coziness of a town barely large enough for an elementary school.

The people smile, wave, and spend their lunch breaks cleaning up highways when it's Earth Day. They greet with hugs in the middle of the street and stop traffic to encourage a squirrel to continue through the light.

It doesn't matter if it's what you were looking for; when you go, you fall in love.

Everyone else I know spent the national "pot day" making fools of themselves.
I spent it dancing with my best friends, four bands, zero food, gallons of water, twenty bucks, and having the time of our life.

Greensboro is suffocating.

smile lines.

Today's a day with shining sun and frosted grounds.

It makes me think of laughing until I've forgotten every time I've ever cried;
of dancing until I've forgotten how to sit still;
and of singing despite the fact that it will never sound like the intended song.

half asleep and floating on air.

I very rarely accept the mistakes of others with the level of grace that I'd like to show.

I hold mental grudges, despite the fact that I can't harbor any hard feelings. I remind myself time and time again of all the things that someone's done wrong and the level of distance that I should hold between us; between my heart and theirs and any sort of softness that could develop and somehow make me vulnerable to someone who makes mistakes. I always fail, and enjoy their company despite myself.

My peers who ask stupid questions or make jokes that I find to be on the "miss" side of the High School Comedy "hit or miss" spectrum, are hung within my mind. I watch them walk in to class the next day; next month, and I'm still thinking to myself how they took a false step that one day. I hold myself to a line of perfection and hate myself for every stupid question, every "miss", every wrong answer on tests that don't quite count.

I think that I hold others to them more.
I do better when I feel like I'm competing; like I'm proving someone wrong. I achieve at an easier rate when I know that I'm subtly shoving it down someone's throat that their assumptions were as left-fielded as their mouths were quick. I want them to know that they're human, that they're no better than anyone who's next to them.

So why can't I get over the fact that I make mistakes?
That my peers who ask stupid questions make mistakes?
That I'm human and therefore not exempt from all that such entails?


I don't live for the feeling of accomplishment,
I live for the feeling of striving to reach it.
And the fact that I finally found someone who makes mistakes that make me love him more. Whose wrong moves make me flutter on cloud 9, readily positioned above him to be the perfect "hit", because I hate the way we have to miss each other.

nothing like a stomach ache for all the right reasons.

"Hunter, what on earth are you doing?"

"I'm catching snowflakes!"

"I don't see snowflakes."
"That's why you're the grown up!"

"DO YOU SEE THE SNOWFLAKES NOW?!"

pretty brown eyes; soft blond hair. smooth skin and constantly chapped lips that are always curled in the biggest of smiles. greets me at the door with hugs and climbs up on my back to be whisked around the kitchen in a whirl of giggles. sits on the counter while i make him his lunch, always asking to help out. cuts me out snowflakes and colors me dinosaurs, hides on my lap when the other three are ganging up on him. cries when he falls and always lets me make it better; looks to me when he's not quite sure where to go. whines openly, forgives freely, and renews my faith every day.

makes me want something of my own, maybe.

The perfect words never crossed my mind 'cause there was nothing in there but you.