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Happy Rant.

I believe a lot in independence.  There’s no set formula for “happy.”

1 part Summer
2 part friends
A sprinkle of laughter

Mix well and drink.

That simplicity doesn’t exist.  Sometimes I’m smiling and other times I’m not—even if the circumstances stay the same.

In high school—when I was young and naïve and stupid (I’m still young and naïve and stupid but I was more so then) I dated a boy on whom my happiness was dependent.  Without him, I wasn’t smiling.  When I was smiling—one negative comment from him would change that.  That’s not how it should be.

That’s why I believe in independence.  It’s great to be happy with friends, with family, or with significant others—don’t get me wrong. It’s fabulous.

Finding happiness when you’re lonely, though, that’s hard. It’s hard to find happy in your head—without others.  It’s hard to be happy, rather than find happy in your circumstances.

Here’s the thing though: once you do (find happiness in your independence—be happy) then the happiness you have with friends, with family—it’s stronger.  Because you know that you can walk away (to a certain extent) and still hold onto it. Because you can then share the happy you already have with others, rather than relying on them to make the happy.

Happiness. It isn’t concrete.  It fluctuates.  At times, I feel like it’s so easy to be miserable.  So easy to be sad.  Life often makes you work for good things—and happiness is no exception to that.

Very few people see true happiness just land in their lap.  Maintaining a positive mindset is not simple and we can’t rely on circumstances to put it into place for us.  It takes a constant conscious effort to exude positivity.

Positivity is often tiresome and exhausting and can leave us empty handed.  You can pass through the tunnel without finding what you need at the end.  But it has to be done.

Temporary happiness is easy.  Momentary joy can be repeatedly found.  And these are good things. They can help.
But happy. True and lasting happy. It’s fucking hard sometimes.



Maybe I’m just tired of caring for myself and maybe I want to put all my responsibility away—stored high up on a shelf.

Maybe I’m exhausted from being on my own—from only sharing thoughts with the paper in my journal or my mother on the phone.

Maybe social media planted jealousy within—has me comparing mine to yours, as if life were something one could win.

Maybe I don’t want to spend another Friday night alone in the coffee shop.



Note to self.

Remember this, Emily. Remember riding in the back of Maddie’s car while leaning out the window. The sun is shining and your outstretched hand casts a moving shadow on the road below. Behind the roar of the wind in your ears you hear the muffled voices of your favorite humans laugh from inside the car.

It’s in this stupid moment—in a car, driving through Wisconsin suburbia, that you feel perfect. This feeling. Remember this.



The fifth annual Tea Party hosted by abbyybba and me. YAY PARTEA!

Music: Waves by Sleeper Agent



This journal keeps me honest.
Paper makes me speak.
I find that pen to page allows even my deepest thoughts to leak.
Written words—they seem more  humble.
I can rely on them to stay.
But even written words can’t fully show what my emotions have to say.



I’ve been thinking.

I’ve been thinking—and that’s never a good sign.
I’ve been thinking—and it seems like my thoughts & my feelings don’t want to combine.
I’ve been thinking of all those “what if’s” and imagining how I’d make my move.
I’ve been thinking of you; do you disapprove?



spring break forever y’all #SB2K14 



Behind the Laughter

I laughed to fool the faces,

But if you listened you would know.

It was a mirthless laugh—

The kind that echoes in its own emptiness.

And though it’s a hallow sound it somehow still holds a story;

Not one of adventure or excitement, not of pain or sorrow—

Just a story about a girl. A girl without a place.



Dear future significant other,


With age i’ve learned how to be very low maintenance and equally low key. At this point in my life, the following sentences will make me swoon and have the sex with you.

  • I know where we should order dinner from tonight.
  • It’s okay, i understand. Honestly. 
  • Can we just nap all day today?
  • Yes, it is in fact a burrito night. 
  • I’m going to the grocery store.
  • How was your day?

Bonus points for implementing high fives as obligatory celebration practices.



A poem of questions

Comfort or butterflies?
How does true love start?
In similarities? In opposites?
How can I tell if he’s captivated my heart?

Passion or joy?
Do they always have to correlate?
Can I fight for something filled with sorrow?
Can I find joy in what I hate?

Compassion or self-confidence?
Why is it so hard to have them both?
What’s it mean to love another? To love yourself?
Do the answers come with growth?



I just want to know what you think of me.
Or how you view me when I walk into your place.
How does my name taste on your lips?
And what do you see when you look at my face?



Pantone Prose & Pictures

A simplistic yet lovely collaborative; submit something yourself!
(Check out color #404) *wink*



We’ve reached that time of year again…

The sunlight likes to sneak in past my heavy eyelids while I sleep.
I wake up in a summer haze that I wish was real, and mine to keep.
My feet rebel against my shoes because they yearn to be left bare.
The thermostat is turned up high, to justify the tank top that I wear.
I pour a glass of lemonade with lunch, though of course it’s not the same.
I need that sticky condensation, that humid heat, that swelter; all of which make my hair impossible to tame.
The falling ice becomes a tweeting bird, the howling wind becomes a warm beach wave.
I’ve got those Summer daydreams bad. The sun is all I crave.

I’m stuck in a place far away. No control. The world moves along and I watch it go.
My absence does little. The play must go on. I sit back to watch the coming of dawn.
I want to get up, & travel back to my place. But I’m stuck here.
Stuck watching a life from which I’ve been erased.



My subconscious playing games.

I saw you creep into my mind last night and make your way into my dream.
You didn’t even ring the bell, just showed up uninvited. But that seems to be the theme.
The next morning I’m eating breakfast, and you rudely ran through my mind.
No knock on the door to announce your arrival—had you asked for a visit, I would have declined.
And then walking to class, as I review for a test, you cast your face on a stranger passing by.
I had to do a double take, but of course it wasn’t you. I’ll admit; you almost had me there—nice try.
I’m doing homework and you appear in my head, yet again, this time because I read about a poet who— NO.
It doesn’t matter why. You need to leave. Get the hell out of my head.

This makes me think of that and that makes me think of you.
Well,…I’m done. Done letting you occupy the thoughts in my mind.
No more. Not of you. Do you hear? Consider yourself part of my past.

I’m go out to dinner with my friends, and someone says your name.
There you are again. Never mind what I said before. I should have known you would last.