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.