Unnecessary Post About Photos and A Beautiful Boy

"You're beautiful every little piece love."

I want to write something beautiful tonight, but nothing is coming out beautiful. My art is in the photos tonight, which is okay; that's worth at least a thousand words right? The way you can capture some split second moment is incredible. Here's the thing about photos. They aren't about perfection, and that's something I'm about--imperfection.

I don't know that this is even necessary to post, really. I don't usually post things like this.

I love you, baby. Come home soon.

Hello, I'm in Delaware

This is about a lot of things and I'm sorry that I'm not sorry that it is a mess.

It's funny because everyone keeps saying things like, "What do you have to lose?" When really, I have everything to lose. Listen to me. I just want you to listen even if it just means once.

I didn't want this to be about you, but that's all that will come out. I don't want to let the other things come out because they scare me. We don't speak very often, but when we do, you tell me, "It's easy," and that you don't regret that.

Remember?

I clung because I couldn't loosen my firm grip; it felt good to have numb fingers

Sometimes I want to yell profanities, but I stop myself because I know you'd be disappointed. I wish you could taste the emotion behind my words. I wish I could see you cry. In the back of my head I'm saying, "Morgan, let go," and, "stop." but my skin says to hold on because you're supposed to be close. I think it's because you hold God's hand.

You scare me. You scare me to the point of exhaustion and maybe even giving up. You scare me to where I don't want to give up because I'm feeling something from you. I hope I get to see your alphabet on small lines with a date in the corner and envelops that smell like Tampa.

Connor, I'm sorry that I become dependent, but I don't want to do it wrong anymore; I care about your opinion.

I remember the day I met you, and the day I met Addy, and Kristen, and Teddy, and Davis, and Chandi, and Eliza, and Krista, and the day I met Kolten. I won't remember the date, you can count on that. I won't remember what you were wearing,--Millie may, though--either, but I'll remember you. I'll remember what I thought, and what I felt. 

When I met you I said, "We're going to know each other." The day I met Addy I said, "Here, I drew this picture for you." She said, "I'm going to write you a note." That note was about Dakota and loving boys; she asked about me. Now I know what the inside of her heart looks like, "Everybody else's." The inside of her journal is different, though; eloquent.

I told you, "We are equal; very equal." When what I meant to say was, "You are just a little bit closer to heaven than I am, but that forces me to put me above me and maybe study a little bit more and maybe pray a little bit more and maybe sing a few more songs out loud." Is that saying too much? I never say the right amount of words.

I don't love you, yet. 

--Morga.n

Come on Home, Boy.

I feel like I should be playing catch-up because it's been approx. 36 days since I've written here. Wherever here is. But, that's not what I want to do because it'd be a lot of stress, and ag, and probably too many underlying this-is-all-about-you-and-hard-teenage-girl-life-stuff messages that not even I could understand. 

So instead, this is about Addy. This is about Laura, and Shelbie, and phone messages. It's about medication, and water, and sore legs, and how my new year starts tomorrow. This is about numbers, and dreams about wrestler boys, and wood shopping, and magic pants, and Georgia peaches, and that gym. It's about late night dinners, America, long lunches, the Bravermans, mothers, twitter, kissing and 3. This is about fingers, and Kolton, and Kira, and cancer, and wet, jet black eyelashes. This is about holding your breath, and silence, and prayers, and maybe even a little bit about Seth. 

Because all of that is what this is about. (and run-on sentences)

M.organ

For Addy, Shelbie, and Avery