Oy Gevalt.

Hellooooo there!
Well, unfortunately, I haven't payed attention for most of the year in school.
I know, smart, right?
And for people as genius as me, the end of the school year is torture because we have, wait for it: FINALS.
*Cue the Jaws theme song*
So, all of a sudden, I'm working my motherfucking ass off trying to learn all the shit I haven't been paying attention to.
Yes, I have a dirty mouth.
And yes, that dirty mouth is part of the reason I'm not prepared for finals (I get sent out of the classroom a lot...).

Actually, funny story.

In History class one day, I called Hitler a "douchebag" with a "piece of crap for a mustache".
The latter phrase got me thrown out of class.

Forgive me, for I digressed.

Long story short, until June 4th, there will be no new blog posts.
I know, I'm pretty torn up about it too.
But there should be an influx of posts coming in around June 4th-5th, so don't you worry your pretty little heads off, my darlings.

Fuck my motherfucking life,
Hayley

P.S. Most of you have probably noticed the site counter. If someone can explain to me how to move it to the bottom of my page, they will be rewarded greatly ;) (if you know what I mean... just kidding).
P.P.S. Also, can somebody please explain to me what a water tower is? I'm still wondering from my last post
P.P.P.S. I don't wanna leave you guys
P.P.P.P.S. Please don't make me study
P.P.P.P.P.S. How is everybody? Post your responses in the comments!
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I had a really good lunch. Like, it was fantastic. What did everyone have for lunch? Give me ideas for my next lunch in the comments :)
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Has anybody ever had sassafras?
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. People think I'm a dog person, but I'm actually a cat person. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, but I just have cats
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I love you...

Ruminations (It was a long night...)

When ice cream starts melting, how does it still stay brain-freezing cold?

Life would be a lot harder if nobody lied.

I do not believe in love at first sight. Maybe an instantaneous attraction, but never immediate love.

I have not even met you and I already sort of love you.

Things I hate: malicious people, an unmade bed (but I don’t mind a messy room), pants, and Miley Cyrus.

Procrastination gets shit done.

It is all our parent’s fault.

How much of our life is controlled by fate and how much depends on our own will?

How do you spell “gray”? Is it “grey”, or “gray”? Come on, people. Choose one.

Are we really living? Or is this “life” we know of just some person’s dream, and when they wake up… poof; we disappear?

No, I do not want to go to your four-year-old sister’s birthday party. I am, in fact, terrified of small children and clowns.

You do not have big boobs. You wear bras two sizes too big, but big boobs is something you will never have.

Being eccentric does not mean that I am constantly high.

People who say they do not get hangovers are bullshitting you.

Why are Belle and Sebastian’s song titles so goddamn long?

People who make all those “Go Green!” flyers are hypocrites. Think about it.

Do animals have their own language?

What do hipsters think when they dress themselves? Do they say, “Oh, do these Buddy Holly-esque glasses match with my purple American Apparel sweatshirt and grey skinny jeans?

It is always embarrassing looking at my guy friend’s web history.

What even is a water tower?

Whenever I found out a celebrity lives in my area, I flip a shit and become immediately obsessed with them.

Are the people who make Lifetime movies being serious?

Although very talented, Lady Gaga is an attention whore.

Whenever people say, “Why are you still single?” to some people, I always want to say, “Because they have bad teeth, are not funny, and do not have an actual personality.”

I just really hate people who exercise excessively.

The only thing I dislike more than people who exercise excessively is when those people try to get me to work out with them. It is like, “No, leave me alone. I am not going on a 4-mile hike with you. So let me get back to my Cheetos and computer, please. Thanks.”

I cried for an hour when JD Salinger died. RIP

Starry Eyed Surprise

The fairies twinkled across the dewy leaves
Like bright stars, illuminating a pitch-black night.
Lightening bugs glowed, moving gleefully with the calm wind.
Crickets sang their happy tune, soft and sweet.
An ethereal image.
Two young lovers,
Embracing under a wise old sycamore.
Flushed cheeks, swollen lips.
Long, light brown hair, knotted from being tangled in the boy's calloused hands.
A discarded navy blue dress.
The ancient quilt that had been lying in his attic for years, scrunched into a loose ball on the grass.
Leaving their woes behind, these two paramours found one another.

They found happiness.

In less than two months time had they known each other,
But that is all it took.
Oh, that is all it took for the girl to fall for the boy, and the boy for the girl.
They both fell hard, like on a cement ground.
But there were no bruises, no scrapes.
Only hot, throbbing summer nights.
This is not teenage lust.
This is starry-eyed love.

Disappointments

Jet-black, velvety ink drips across the page; handwriting small, drops large;
Spreading, contaminating.
The shadow of my pen casts a menacing shadow against the page.
Dark against light.
The virgin sheet, awaiting, a-hoping, for that one black, opaque dot to come to corrupt it.
Corruption.
What a beautiful word, what an ugly action.
The naïve, sanguine girl waits and wishes for her one true prince.
But he shall never come.
A seventeen-year old boy in a motorcycle jacket is what she gets instead.
Nothing special.
Just another one of those hit and run cases.
Nights following the failed attempt at love are filled with
Pain and rain,
Beat, beat, beating against an off-white windowpane,
Not unlike her heart that one frightening, pitch-black night.

All I Ever Wanted

Oh, how embarrassing this is.
I leaned in; lips puckered, eyes shut tight,
To have you tilt back, mouth wide open, eyes bewildered.
Oh, this is awkward.
I thought you were a signal in a world full of dial tones.
But I was wrong.
Oh, of course I was.
All this time, my impression was that there was this undeniable spark to our friendship,
And I tried to make that sparkly friendship into a fiery romance.
Oh, how I failed.
My cheeks are crimson; my tears are rapidly blurring my vision.
A fat drop rolls down from my eye, offering relief to my burning face.
Oh, I need a drink.
There is not a lot in this world that I have for myself.
So why could you not be the one thing that I did not have to share?
Oh, all I ever wanted was you.

Letter to X

Dear X,

I know you are suffering right now, and I cannot even explain how terribly sorry I am for that. But I just wanted to let you know that you are loved.

You are not alone.

At least once in every single person’s life, they will go through the exact same feelings as you; believe me. And I know that right now, the possibility that someone has identical emotions as you do seems impossible, but trust me; it is very possible. God; I can’t even put into a sentence how much I understand you. I get it. You feel worthless. Helpless. Completely, utterly, irrevocably abandoned. No one is trying to desert you; they are simply scared.

Honestly, you are not even doing a good job of hiding it. No one can. People notice the frequent runs to the bathroom and hear the retching behind the door. They can tell when you have not slept the night before because you were up worrying; the dark circles under your eyes tell all. And the puffiness of your eyes is the worst, am I right? Everybody can tell that you cried yourself to sleep, yet again.

Please do not make any rash decisions.

Oh, do not even try to deny it. I know that you planned out how to… you know… commit suicide. I found your plan. Well, do not do it. Do you even know how missed you would be? You do not even how much of an impact you have had on so many people. Also, I am so very sorry to say this, but you would be acting so fucking selfish. Yeah, that is right. I am not trying to sound unfair or cruel; I simply care about you. And I know that I am not a particularly close friend or family, and I don’t even know if they are doing anything about your little situation, and it really isn’t any of my business. Just…

…Talk to me.

I am sorry if this letter sounds harsh; it is called tough love, sweetie. The best writers in the world could not put my pure adoration and anxiety for you into words.

I swear that I will always be there for you. Through thick and thin, sickness and good health, and all that other crap, I am always ready to talk. Please, oh God, please talk to me.


-Hayley M.

Just Dance

Let's dance.
Yes, I said it.
Let's dance like no one but God is watching.
We should throw our hands up in the air.
We can be the epitome of carelessness.
Recklessness.
You can press your gangly teenage body against mine.
I will not mind.
Let's let go of all our pent up angst.
For we are young and free.
Tonight, let's forget about parents and authority.
We are going to break the rules.
You can press your dry, chapped lips against mine; we are caught up in the heat of the dance.
It is okay, this will not turn awkward.
Because we are dancing our hearts out.
Our souls are exploding with happiness.
I love so much dancing with you.
You make me feel free.
In a way, I kind of love you.
But not romantically.
No, never romantically.
Just because we are dancing our hearts out.
Just dancing.
Our feet are tapping along to the rhythm.
Oh, how we love that rhythm.
We are both happier than we have been in a while.
With our hearts racing, our minds reeling.
The song ends, but we are going to keep on going.
Once you have started, you cannot stop.
Lights are flashing before our eyes; they are blinding us.
But all-in-all, we are simply ecstatic to be on this dance floor.
For we are those audacious teenagers.
Emotionally, passionately, irresponsibly, dancing.

The Pursuit of Happiness

My life is spiraling downward.
Down and down it goes.
All the colors of this
Life of mine are being joined
Together in a frenzy:
Of color.
Pinks, greens, reds, blues.
It reminds me of vomit.
Well, is that not what this
Thing we call “life” is right now?
Just a pile of vomit?
It sure does seem that way.
Gone are the days of dancing when no one, not a soul is watching.
To the memories of many a boy throwing themselves at me, hoping for a chance with this
Rumor-ridden harlot; goodbye, dear friend.
And last, but certainly not least, so long best friends. You have given me more than I could ever ask for:
Acceptance.
Acceptance from this cruel world.
I just ask one last thing from you:
Forgiveness.
Please forgive me for all the times I have caused you pain. Forgive me for not paying you back all those times (sorry about that eighty-seven cents).
You may not forget, but just forgive.

But I will wake up tomorrow.
Stronger.
Happier.
Alive.
No, I will not be trapped under the rubble of life.
I will prosper.
So hello, new friend. We are going to get to know each other very well.
Boys will become cautious, slow creatures to me.
I will breathe cool, crisp air, and let the sun’s rays beat down upon my face.
I will be that beautiful butterfly, winging over things too unimportant to even take up a thought in my mind.
Life will take on a shiny newness, and I will only feel one thing:
Happiness.