Confessions about a boy, 2.

Cocky, but I like a challenge.

You’re about as handsome as it gets, but your walls are up, so my curtains stay closed.

Your sister is sleeping and somehow you’ve gotten me into your room. The door shuts and we become animals, but it’s quick. Not what I’d expect from a 6’2 piano prodigy. Lacrosse, Soccer, and Football pro- Straight A student with the whitest damn teeth I’ve ever seen. God knows you’re much too perfect for me, but for now, my body doesn’t care.

After we’re done, I go to leave, but you start talking to me real human. You ask me to tell your sister to wear less makeup, and to keep an eye on her, too. Guilt sits like stones in my stomach, for I already chose you over her. I guess everyone wants a piece of me, and there’s just not much left.

You asked me to care for your sister and so I do, ignoring you, but when you’re drunk you’re not the same gentleman. You grab my backside and laugh when I say “stop”.

You even have the audacity to yell at me for smoking cigarettes, yet when I choose to walk away into the neighbor’s yard, you follow, pulling me down to the ground.

“Stop” I say. You cover my lips with your own. “No” I tell you, but you’ve undone most of my buttons now. I get up and push you off, and you’re pissy and I want to cry.

When I go inside, your sister thinks I’m hiding something because the jeans she lent me are muddy now and she couldn’t find you before.

I light another cigarette and swallow the guilt with the smoke.


Today I feel empty like the pumpkin on the neighbor’s porch-
sitting three days stale after halloween.

Wilting face, hollow eyes,
I could use a better disguise.

Don’t you hate when people can see right through you?
Can you help me hide my emptiness?

Its just- I’m hypnotized,
Wanna hold him so bad my skin crawls,
But I’m all carved out and rotten.
(Also, everytime I try and write a poem about a pumpkin
it ends up being about you.)


The Pursuit of Peace

For those of you who don’t know, I am currently and have been writing a novel for the last year and some.

The story is meant to embody a couple of concepts, but most importantly there is the concept of “The Pursuit of Peace”. My best friend Molly introduced me to this concept two years ago and it has stuck with me ever since.

We were in Woodland cemetery in Philadelphia, sitting underneath the tall obelisk tomb and talking about our lives. The conversation of tattoos came up and Molly told me she wanted the words “Pursuit of Peace” tattooed on her ribcage. When I asked her why, she told me that in order to truly become ourselves, in order to truly live good fulfilling lives, we have to find peace. Everything we do in life is to find some sort of peace. I remember this moment as a moment of realization. “We’re on the pursuit of peace, Bel.” She told me. These words unfolded in my head.

I asked myself: What do I want from life?

Happiness, love, success, passion, fulfillment, talent, most importantly to be recognized for my writing.

I asked myself: What does it take to get these things?

Pain, sadness, discouragement, failure, self consciousness, mistakes.

It became clear to me that in order to attain everything that I wanted, I had to make peace and overcome the hard things first. I had to make peace with the fact that I couldn’t just WANT love, or happiness, or confidence, or to be a writer, I had to go and find those things and suffer for them, and take the time to heal from that suffering, to learn and make peace with it, in order to move on to the next step in reaching my ultimate goals.