I Don't Know; It Just Is

I wish I could control the things that I know I can't.

I think you're beautiful. Do you know that? And today, today I remembered it's about the people. It's about the way their elbows are where I hold and their shoulders move when they breathe. It's about how she rubs her ankle bone when she gets nervous.

When someone asks the question, "How do you express yourself?" it's funny because I do it through my clothes and my body language and the way I take notes in class. I'm driven by feeling and by the messages my heart sends to my brain. The crazy thing is, "it's harder for me" even if you think that it's harder for you. It's magnified and heightened for me, I mean. I don't doubt that it's hard for you, at all. It's hard for everyone.

I think this is about stopping to breathe when you just can't take it. I think it's the way Karson finally cut his heart in half and let me peer inside; I didn't even pry. It's that Eliza knows about Tampa and the significance of letters. She over thinks things with me. Chandi turns chuckle into a gut wrenching laugh. 

I'm writing about what life is, I think. I'm writing about metaphors and smells and feelings and touching. I'm writing about my 8 special senses.  

Addy smells like chaos, Connor like criticism, and Shelbie like acceptance. Kolten smells like Nutella and Taylor like my music.

There's people like Kristen that will openly admit that Addy's father is hot, (I mean, he is) like Benjamin that let go of things in a literal seven seconds, like Amy who pull every man, boy, and child's eyes towards her, like Teddy who is . . . like Teddy. There's no one like them. 

There's secrets, like the way only one person will know what I mean when I say, "Crazy Town." I hope it still makes you feel good. I hope you're reading this.

You know how chapstick feels when it touches dry lips or how that food tastes after you haven't eaten all day or how that hug feels when you need it? You know how it feels to put clothes on your bare skin when they've come straight out of the dryer? Or the messes we make of things? That's what life's about.

It's about my battle between my left and right brain. It's putting of the important things to do something that makes your person happy. Isn't that the "important things?"

The people that organize my index cards in my filing cabinets get a little confused sometimes.

Six months ago I said, "I hate high school," and this month I say, "I love high school." I am a cliche. I am better than the cliche.

It's all about the ordinaries.

I miss Matt and Kyle and Avery and Kaitlyn. I let myself have the right to miss them. I love those three in the morning conversations with him about how he is going to write a book. He's serious about it. I love the day you can finally poke fun at someone and know, really know that they'll love you after just as much as they did the minute before the remark was sassed off of your tongue. 

Life is loving the boy that doesn't like you back because that how I work. Life is that hair. Oh, that hair gave me goosebumps today. The good kind. You don't read this, though, and that means your eyes don't list to my fingers. Maybe one day my ears will hear what I hope your lips have to say. Life is the games we play and the way Addy(son) and I dissect each tiny detail of every piece of all the boys. Life is the moment you realize that God knows what he's doing. You have to look at today and let God look at the broadness of everything else.

He always apologizes. Always. And I love that.

Enduringly Yours,

Mor.gan