I'm not ending as a tourist.

I know blog posts were due at 11:59 tonight,

and I may seem pathetic for starting this at 12:34.

I've feared writing this since day one, and wondering how I would go about it. 

So maybe I'll start with my name. 

My name is Cassidy McKeon.

I keep staring at those 13 letters 

&

reminding myself that if I say them enough times they will start to lose their meaning. 

Yes I've typed and re-typed my name nearly a dozen times, 

and finding words to sum up this semester is nearly impossible.  

So I'll keep it simple. 

Thank you to those who read, commented and better yet even just looked at my blog. 

Thank you to those with inspiring words and tumblr pictures. 

(I really did appreciate the pictures)

Thank you Nelson, for teaching me something that no one else has been able to.

Thank you. 

But let me just make one thing clear,

I'm not a tourist I swear.

I've been in Paris the whole time.

Even if I Tried

I remember an ivy covered house and hideous carpeted stairs.

I remember bus stops, and long talks.

I remember broken arms hurting less than broken hearts.

I remember Jack Johnson, third grade, and pancakes.


I remember the 5th grade crush, that seemed like the perfect candidate for my future husband.


I remember the first time I heard my favorite song.

I remember loose change, and quarters being as good as gold.


I remember yellow clocks, not because they kept track of the time, but because they were yellow.


I remember twin beds and hardwood floors.

I remember lucky charm marshmallows, more specifically the blue balloons.

I remember fingers caught in heavy doors.


I still listen to 15 by taylor swift because I remember being fifteen and even though I hated fifteen,
 I had that song.

I remember laughing until our ribs were sore.


I remember the first time I wanted to hear you say " I Love You." and how I never wanted it to stop, but it did. 

My problem is, that I live for the "I remembers".
&
I  couldn't forget them, even if I tried.

cold hands and heart

Her hands were always cold. 

As if there were ice running through those deep blue veins.

Not that her hands were any indication of her heart. 

But maybe they were. 

Maybe they are. 

Broken veins that tell her body that if her heart stops beating, 

they'll bleed the same way. 

Her hands were always cold. 

She always tells you. 

As if there was something you can do. 

But you can't because you can't change someone's heart. 

and she wonders,

If her hands will always be cold.

our love was a natural disaster.

We'd drive through the canyon and you'd be bothered by the silence.  I'm sorry for that,  but there was just something about nature that couldn't be ignored.

My mind got lost looking at pine tree covered forests,

the way my eyes got lost looking at you. 

I loved you the way I love overcast days.

The amount of tears could've flooded my basement if we let them.
Because I cried to you more times than it had rained all year that July.

Arguments as disastrous as hurricanes.

A touch that spread through my body like a wildfire.

Loud laughs that could've been mistaken for earthquakes.

Goodbyes that hit like a tsunami. 

And a love that was a natural disaster itself,

I was unprepared when it happened so unexpectedly. 

still remembers.

she paints her nails dark, to match her mood. 

"Death is a tragic thing" she thinks to herself. 

she remembers...

She remembers the day she found out.

She thinks about the rounds and rounds of chemo that were supposedly helping.

but mostly just hurting....

Because they failed to mention that a side effect of chemo is 

change in personality. 

The words "3-6 months" play out in her head. 

She feels lucky that she got 8 months more than expected. 

She remembers the hugs getting shorter.

She's reminded of the smell of hospital rooms. 

She remembers lying awake wondering
when?

She remembers getting the accidental text supposed to go to her mom, saying

 "I'm so sorry to hear that he passed away."

Its been two years now. 

And she still remembers. 

pumpkins and painful memories

October reminds me of you.

It was the first time we really kissed,

and it was the last time I would kiss anyone else for a while. 

I've been listening to September by Earth, Wind & Fire

over and over again. (Even thought its October.)

Because September was better.

And these memories,

they weren't constantly on my mind.

I didn't get that that heart wrenching stomach pain right in the middle of my ribcage.

I didn't miss your repetitive compliments that made me uncomfortable.

I didn't miss forcing you to listen to a great song.

I didn't miss fighting with you. 

I didn't miss the way your voice sounded on the phone late at night, when you would call to apologize.

The feelings are inevitable,

and I don't know if its the leaves changing,

or the way my minds racing.

They say theres nothing like your first love.

Who the hell are "they"?

I don't know.

But as much as I hate to admit it, I think "they"might be right.

And maybe October is for the lovers,

or maybe its for the pretenders.

According to Earth Wind & Fire

"love is changing the mind of pretenders."

dammit I know, okay.

I know I'm a pretender.

But I can't help to fill that emptiness.

Because as the leaves fall,

I'm falling too.

And when November comes around,

and the snows starts to fall.

I sure  hope I'm done falling.

Because gravity's toll on me,

It's getting exhausting.

And whatever you do, please...just please,  don't even get me started on December.

how to.

Listen to your favorite song.

Many times. 

Im talking on repeat for hours upon hours. 

Feel sorry for yourself. 

Not for long, 

but right now its good for you because 

you deserve to pity yourself when it seems like

no one else cares. 

Whatever you do, 

don't forget to plaster that ridiculous smile on your face.

That will be key in your journey to being okay. 

Its been said, that after a while you'll start to believe it's real. 

Make sure that the only tears that come are the one's from laughing.

Laugh by yourself, and at things that only make you laugh. 

You're not crazy, just lonely 

and loneliness, 

it's a drug. 

Don't cry, 

Just don't do it. 

But if you must , make sure you're by yourself, 

because people don't care.

Okay that was blunt, but as much as it hurts, its true.  

Distract yourself,

Don't think about the movie you used to watch with him,

or the lies you just told your parents

or the secrets you've kept from her. 

Write a letter, with everything you wish you would've said. 

Think about your favorite words. 

Think about the things you would've said to his face. 

Think about the good times, 

Your favorite memory of your speckled bathroom floor in your first house. 

I should've told you before hand that there is no guarantee that these things make you okay.

 Because who knows, maybe we'll never be anything more than okay. 

a sunday playlist

Oblivion- Indians

Love Like This (acoustic)- Kodaline

Robbers- The 1975

Naive- The kooks

Lets be Still- The Head and the Heart

You Are The Best Thing- Ray LaMontagne

500 miles- Sleeping at Last

West- Sleeping at Last

Slow dancing in a Burning room- John Mayer

Blue Moon- Beck

Comrade- Volcano Choir

We own the Sky- M83

September- Earth, Wind, & Fire

Terrible Love- The National

Sexual Healing- Marvin Gaye( Kygo Remix)

She Moves In Her Own Way- The Kooks

Heart out- The 1975

excelsior.

Silver lining:

Noun.

something that offers hope or benefit in a situation that is generally adverse.

I've  already written about my experience being a tortured teen and a broken hearted high school student. So I thought I would try something positive, something with a silver lining, or at least something different.

It's simple really. 

to the chips in my brick.

Incase these chips feel that they're going un noticed, 

I'd like to make it clear to them that they aren't. 

Here's to the small ones:

The dirty looks from the ex-girl friend, who's topped full of assumptions. 

The opened text messages with no response back. 

The awkward walk (longest route you can find) to third period because second period is too close.

The heartache of seeing someone who was never mine with her. 

The boy who talks about my friend the way I wished he talked about me. 

The bad relationship with my dad.

The person I can't love. 

The 11:11 wishes that never came true. 

The plans that fell through. 

The relationships with friends that somewhere went wrong. 

The sarcastic comments, that I've held on to for far too long. 

(because they really aren't that funny.)

So, to the chips in my brick, You are noticed.

And your "small" chips they're adding up,

 They're  getting larger by the second. 

I'm writing on a Friday.

I'm writing this on a Friday because those bright Friday night lights 
are turning into dim Thursday night lights.

The bleachers are losing voices each quarter, 
and with each 6 points were down by,
there seems to be one less confetti cannon going off. 

What should it matter though. I don't really care about football games,
or high school for that matter.

but...

Maybe a year from today I'll be envying the high school students
and wishing to be back under those lights,
even if they were dim that Thursday night.

Maybe the only dim lights I'll be under, are the ones in libraries,
illuminating down on the books I should be reading,
for test I should be taking.

And maybe

just Maybe.


I'll wish I hadn't taken those sad Thursday lights for granted.

adulthood is calling.

"Honey, grow up." She said to me.

my response,
"No."

Because I refuse to stop making wishes at 11:11,
until the day I die.

And I can't decide if that makes me pathetic or powerful.

Because I hope that my lips will always curl up in half a smile

when i think about kissing. 

And because I want a curfew. 

To feel rebellious when i come home late,

and when I sneak out my sister's vacant room window. 

People have already stopped asking me what I want be when i grow up. 

And I wish they still would. 

2:18

I don't want just anyone,

I want someone like me.

     

You know, i want that person who can listen to a great song

over and over again.

Because when it gets two minutes and eighteen seconds into the song, 

and you hear those earth shattering lyrics,

you feel something. 

Someone who can be perfectly content,

driving in silence, because it's a time to give the corners of your mind 

and your inmost thoughts

the attention they need. 

Someone who deeply appreciates full moons.

Someone who can adore my company, even when I am silent.

(because i'm not a big fan of small talk.)

Someone who has horrible taste in movies, but a great explanation

of why they're the best movies.  

Someone who isn't beautiful in the way they look or speak.

But just in the way they are. 

Darling, I know you're out there.

so please find me.