formerly

At the moment I am in the bright and christmassy lobby of Hampton Inn High Point, NC.
For a funeral.
My cousin was only twenty eight, and she had a baby, and a husband.
I just can't stop thinking about her poor husband.
He has to carry on, everyday. Look at the side of the bed she used to sleep on, take care of their son, look at what was formerly  her side of the closet. I think that would be the worst thing, the hardest tragety. You fall in love, you find your other half- the person you don't even think to be self concoius around, the person you can't fall asleep without, the person who you can have sleepy conversations with at three am, who you can count on to cuddle with you after a bad day. And then they're just gone?
That is my biggest fear.
I will the first to admit that once I'm committed, I'M COMMITTED. You know how in a relationship, one person is holding on tighter than the other? That' s me. I'm a chourus of "I love you" 's, and "I need you" 's, and the ever present "Please, Don't leave." 's.
Anyway, Angela's gone.
She was like an older sister to me, excepcially when I was younger. And now.. gone.
You think you understand death, you think of a "better place", and maybe, {god, I hope} it's all true. But I am never going to see her again in this life.
And that is killing me.
I cried.  That terrible, gut-wrenchy, feel like you need to curl up and sob, crying.
and then I poured myself a drink, and put on some lipstick, and now I'm going to be strong.
God, give me strength.

Bronze-and-Blue

Bronze-and-Blue

On the day I turned eleven, I never got my acceptance letter.

Was this a punishment,

for when I was seven, and I scratched my brother’s arm so hard he still has scars?

White half moons, forever skin deep really justify a letter never sent?

He told me Hogwarts wasn’t real,

I called him a liar, and I swore I would always believe in magic.

Now I am seventeen,

And it’s a promise I still keep.

Because it’s real for me, and I won’t give it up.

They say you can always go home,

And my home lives on in a book.

That lightning scar represents so much more,

Than that little boy locked under the stairs.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and goddamn it, I am freezing.

I know in my heart, where I truly belong.

I should be wearing a blue-and-bronze sweater,

Homemade with my first initial proudly worked on to the front.

I belong in a place, where magic is real and I don’t have to deal

With these stupid people, and their stupid limitations.

I belong in the library, one so big I can learn everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and

Eight am breakfasts in the great hall, owls swooping by overhead.

Butterbeer in cup and a wand in my hand,

Bronze-and-Blue house tie loose around my neck.

Goddamn it,

I want every stupid childhood dream made in the sunshine with laughter,

every hushed prayer I ever repeated knelt by the foot of my bed ‘till it became a mantra,

every wish I made desperately, face glowing from the flames of ill fated birthday candles

To come true.

I wrote a modern style Shakespearinan sonnet....

Jane Austen/Semper Fi

Can feel my hand trying to move of its own will,

Like a truck with the parking break left off-

I want to know the feel of your fingers against my hand, is that overkill?

I’m sure any “us” that there is, is one I’ve imagined- You’re not exactly soft.

The heart is a muscle, not a bone-

So technically, it can’t break.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when you stop answering the phone.

I tell myself I’ll move on, but I know it’s a promise I’ll never make.

I wonder if this is how Jane Austen felt, watching the love of her life leave?

We’re in front of my house, and you hug me goodbye.

I try, I swear I do, to push memories of you out of the sieve that’s my mind.

You’re gone, and I look down at the door mat, mocking me with “Semper Fi”

Please, just go and let me take a long rest

Go back and find myself, I’m sure it’s for the best.

I have a procrastination problem...

It's approximately 4:09 pm on Sunday, and I'm accomplished absolutely nothing today but youtube and xbox. I have like six poems to write for ap english, and an ap us history paper to research for, outline, and write a rough draft for. Oh, and I have family coming over for dinner in about an hour.
UGH.
Friday night, I had a game plan. and it did not include this.
But then I went and seen The Hobbit (which you all should totally so, ohmigod, it was so good! But I digress.)
and then I stayed up 'till two in the morning playing xbox.
and now.... well, youtube.
and whining to the internet, I suppose.
______________________________________________________________________________________
And I'm back. I've eaten dinner, returned some messages, wrote about half a shakespearian syle sonnet and eaten dinner. Awesomesauce.
 I'll just leave you with a few fantastic Doctor Who quotes;
The Doctor: Why are you giving me tea NOW?
Random cleaning lady: We are British. We carry on. This is how we deal with trauma.Amy: “Doctor, they’ve got guns.”
The Doctor: “And I don’t, which makes me the better person. They can shoot me dead, but I’ve got moral high ground.”
The Doctor: It’s not rocket science, Rory. It’s just quantum physics

Penelope/ A freeverse poem inspired by greek mythology

There comes a time when I must decide on what’s worth fighting for,

and what dreams I should let die.

 I'm  all alone,  lonely every moment.

Just hanging on to the hope that he’ll return.

The suitors are lined up waiting for me, but still my heart is his.

So I rip out another row on that tapestry, the one that’s proved a blessing and a curse.

And I wait for his return.

Every night, I dream of him, and every time I see my son I hold back tears, because they’re so alike.

But now, now my time is almost up.

And soon I must make my choice.

Do I give him up for dead?

I know that in my heart, I still feel him alive somewhere.

But everyone is waiting for me now.

Is it easier just to go with the status quo?

Held out for three long years, and then betrayed, can I bring yourself to betray my marriage vows?

No, I will stand strong, and stand my ground, because the Gods have given me faith.

And now I see a beggar, a man who so reminds me of the one I’ve lost.

So I will set a task that must be mastered for my hand,

A ridged bow only one man can string and an arrow straight and true through twelve axe shafts.

And if I choose wrongly, may Artemis strike me down.

Because the breaths off the sea just serve as a reminder to me, of everything I’ve lost.

Hello Earth (otherwise known as idgaf)

It's a little over a third of the way through my senior year of high school. You don't even know how hard that is to realize.
My mind screams "I'm only seventeen, I'm still a kid, I can't even freaking legally operate a motor vehical unsupervised, I don't even know who I am yet, I don't know who I want to be."
I've drug my feet about college apps, but I have no idea where I want to go.
For a solid chunk of time, I was going to be an accountant.
Because, though my true passion is writing, I was told "that was not a relable career."
I had a bit of a revalation though. I am going to be putting myself in a considerable amount of debt, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to be happy. So, hey, english major.
Anyhow, I'm Morgan. Teenaged nerd girl, struggling with life in an agriculturally based village in the midwest, the inhabitants of which don't understand why I don't just go to beauty school and marry a farmer, and "do hair" out of a room in my house, and have a wild pack of brats clothed in Walmart's finest who will grow up to be prejudiced and unnacepting just like most of my graduating class probably will. I am going to college. I am going to do what makes me happy. I love wearing ugly sweaters, and I have referred to my cat as "my baby" on a regular basis. Whatever. It's gotten to that point where idgaf.
I'm not that insecure little girl anymore who hides behind too much eyeliner and books and tries to change herself with makeup and clothes I hated but wore because my "friends" did.
I've decided not to let anyone make me feel bad about the choices I've made for myself.