Basically

Basically

I don't think you exist anymore.

You used to send me pictures of limos and nice cars and beautiful people from beautiful places you got to go.

Telling me one day you'd bring me here, to experience it all.

It felt like a dream
And I'm starting to believe it was.

I remember you.
Before the cameras and traveling and beauty.

I guess you forgot about me. Again.

We used to talk on the phone for hours our conversations slowly turning from horses to music to modeling.

I always felt a little out of place when talking to you and I guess you finally felt it too.

Six months ago you disappeared without a trace.

Sometimes I let myself believe you are just waiting until the opportune moment to come back and enchant me with glimpses of the high life.

But then I remember how you disappeared.

And basically

Enzo

I don't think you exist anymore.

Bittersweet Symphony

I've decided I don't like knowing the ending to things ahead of time. It doesn't make anything more enjoyable, it only makes things more bittersweet. But I do think that that makes things all the more beautiful in time. Like Nelson told us, we are all going to die. It's inevitable. And yet, with that knowledge, as much we may not like it, we can make our lives mean something. We can be something, everything. And that to me is true beauty,

If you really knew me, you'd know that I contradict myself A LOT. In the middle of being a total pessimist about life, I will always point out the sunset or smile because of someone amazing.

If you really knew me, you'd know I love to sketch with charcoal, take photographs (see above picture), and write short stories.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm not as tough as everyone thinks I am. I've just spent my whole life hiding it. But thanks to this blog I am slowly becoming able to be more open about saying "I'm not okay right now. I will be, but right now I'm not."

If you really knew me, you'd know that my west highland terrier, Anchor, is one of the best things to ever happen to me. He has kept me alive in the year I've had him, and I wish he understood when I tell him that every night before bed.

If you really knew me, you'd know I'm deathly afraid of heights. Even just standing on buckets at work to reach a higher shelf freaks me out.

 If you really knew me, you'd know I love the smell of campfire. It clings to my hair and clothes and it just makes me smile!

If you really knew me you'd know I never wear any brand of shoes other than vans. It's like some unwritten rule I made for myself when I was younger. The funniest part about this though is that I usually have to buy kid sized shoes.

If you really knew me you'd know I'm torn between having a job in something culinary or something in English. Both are a passion I'm working on right now.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I write in cursive 100% of the time, unless otherwise forced by official documents or a cranky teacher.

If you really knew me you'd know I'm terrible at making decisions. Sometimes I know exactly what I want and you can't sway me from that choice, but most the time I just shrug my shoulders and wait for someone else to pick or until my last day to make it.

If you really knew me, you'd know that my favorite color is orange and I'm getting an orange kitchen aid for Christmas I like it that much.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm scared of love but am taking a chance right now that I'm hoping doesn't bite me in the ass.

If you really knew me, you'd know know that I swear a lot. More than I should. But 96.1230% of the time it's to help get a point across, especially in my writing.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I am turning 18 in 11 days and am scared out of my mind but can't wait.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I am barely 5'4 and have all really tall friends.

I guess you really know parts of me now, after I've shared many thoughts, feelings, and secrets on this blog. So, I guess all I have left is one thing to say:

Since you know me, it's time to know the real me.

I am Molly Savannah Thompson!

It's Scary

Losing your mind is scary.
You don't realize the pieces are gone until it's too late
and too many are missing.

I'm not exaggerating anymore.
Something is wrong but my voice just isn't loud enough for you.

I've stopped eating almost entirely
but the weight on my hips doesn't leave
so you don't notice.

Mom
You don't see my anymore because I don't want you
to have to see your daughter waste away.

Cameron
You didn't sign up to deal with this so I try to hide it
But you know something is wrong and make me smile anyways.

Teachers
I'm sorry I'm never there anymore
I really want to be and beat myself up even more every time I can't come

It's not as simple as
"Go to bed earlier"
"Move your alarm clock"
"Take a break" or
"Remember to breathe" anymore.

I'm slipping into the inferno.
It was just supposed to be a metaphor for a blog
not become my reality.

Commemorate Me

I remember the last day I worked two jobs, and how amazing it felt to finally be finished. I had finally saved enough money after 4 months of 13 hour days to buy myself a car.

I remember the day when I was finally tall enough to climb the biggest tree in my backyard and I felt like I was on top of the world with the sun on my face and the breeze ruffling my hair.

I remember the way she used to make fun of me, whispering secrets to her new friends and pointing fingers out of the windows of her house when all I wanted to do was play with her younger brother because she always ignored him.

I remember the way your family took me in like one of their own when I didn't have one at home. We became so close that I was there almost every day after school, helping make dinners and finish the chores.

I remember the way my heart caved in when I learned I had been cheated on.

I remember the first time you called me after midnight and while we talked about nothing my heart felt everything and I could tell I was falling for you. But you couldn't and never will be mine.

I remember hitting my arm on the wall of that boring old classroom and the first time I really saw you was when you quickly glanced up to ask if I was okay.

I remember the day that you told me you were going to get a divorce. I was 12 and I told you "I knew it." I will never forget the way your face looked when I said it, all fallen and sad.

I remember singing Where Are You Christmas and the words finally made sense because my life was fracturing faster then I could tape it back together. I was too young for it to make sense, I should have still been believing in Santa.

I remember the way your voice sounded when I called you back to ask why and you asked me if I was okay. The only time I stopped crying for the next couple of weeks was when I slept but even then you haunted my dreams.

I remember wanting to burn the hat and break the soda bottles.

I remember talking again but it never felt the same because everything was tainted now.

I remember the way I used to lay in the cool grass of the small hill in my old backyard and doze off in the warm sunlight because nobody was  home but me and I didn't have a care in the world.

I remember the first fight I saw between you and your parents and holding you on the couch after until your chest finally stopped hiccuping and your cheeks dried.

I remember the way everyone reacted when they found out you had gotten the person who had a very complicated relationship with exercise to hike.

I remember the way everyone ignored me when I moved, even though we still go to the same school and I see them every day. They were all too caught up in the pretty new girl who had just moved in.

I remember when I first got my puppy, he has been my best friend and kept me alive since then.

I remember how crystal blue the ocean was as I looked out over the warm sand, happy that for just a week all my cares were carried away by the sweet Mexican breeze.

I remember being up to my elbows in homemade coleslaw but not caring in the slightest because I was surrounded by people who were there to support me and make me smile.

I remember playing endless rounds of pool because I didn't mind losing to you.

I remember that my first kiss in the rain was with you and I loved the way your skin felt speckled with raindrops.

I remember when I dreaded getting up every morning. Now with your help and everyone's smiles I can get up every day and face what is to come and I can't thank you enough.

Black as the Heart

I like this

new found

form

of expression.

Infections

Another infection.

Another day of school I missed.

At least I have a physical excuse this time.

Because an infection of the mind

Is not as condemnable

As an infection of the body.

Teachers

This was the song that was playing as I walked out of my 11th grade English teachers class for the last time. I had just thanked him for all he had done, not just teaching English, but for being there when I needed someone. The accepting nods when I looked to him with tear filled eyes as I headed towards the door, the talk I will never forget about what he called "The Too Damn Bad Box", and his always understanding smile when he knew my mind was other places and simply couldn't be there in class that day. I'm not sure why but this song has always stuck with me, and I'm very grateful for it.

I don't know what it is about the English teachers I've had at Lone Peak, but there is something different about them. They have always just... cared. Even when I thought I knew with absolute certainty that I was going unnoticed and uncared for every day. All I had to do was reach out, grasp at the air with my last hope and they caught me just before I fell. So, really, I guess this is just a thank you. Because I wouldn't have made it this far without them and everything they try to do. I hear that teachers are always looking for that "one student they got through to". Well, I'm one student, and you not only got through to me, but you helped me keep it together. I'm not much, especially when I know yoiu impact and change hundreds of students lives. But I want to say thank you. Because without teachers like you, our world would be truly lost.

"One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child." -Carl Jung

Start to Sew

Despite countless arguments

with my best friend

about whether or not 

I have a heart

I do think I have one.

It's just so battered

and broken

that it's barely recognizable

and I hate people seeing it's condition.

And I'm afraid

that if someone sees it

they will tell me it's beyond fixing

and it is better left untouched.

So I keep it under lock and key.

Except...

Maybe...

just this once

I'll give this person the key.

I only hope they'll take a look

and instead of walking away

they'll hold it tenderly

and start to sew.

In The End

I have spent the last two days in severe pain. So this is going to be short and sweet.

nature always runs it course

no matter what we have to say

or what we do.

the flower will always bloom

the wolf will always howl

and the leaves will always fall.

to me

this explains life.

everything will happen exactly

when it's supposed to happen.

it's not always convenient

or comfortable

or opportune.

but in the end we'll be grateful

because nature has a way

of always working out.

Give It Back

Hello Death.

I can still remember the first time we met. It was at my aunt's funeral. I remember as I looked into her expressionless, almost purple face, I saw you. I was young. Too young to realize why you were smiling at me. I could hardly bear it so I simply stopped looking. It was awhile before we met again.

It was at my grandmothers funeral. You had not stopped to say hello when my grandfather was buried a few months earlier, but this time you paid me visit. And as I stood watching the dirt cascade down over the cement box, you placed something icy and cold in my heart. It took root, and festered there, slowly draining me.

By the time it became noticeable to those around me, it was almost too late. I was a very lost eighth grader who was sick and tired of being the good kid of the family. The one with the train wreck brothers and mental case of a sister, who had the perfect grades and the perfect test scores and the very imperfect and quite twisted soul. You were scared away by a visit from a shrink who invaded the personal space of my room and who I secretly despise to this day.

You didn't stay away long though, and a year later you were back in my sights. Someone who I thought was good used you against me to bend me to their will. They were a monster who knew losing people I cared about to you was a weakness of mine. And I went through six months of hell just to try and keep them out of your clutches. In fighting against you so fervently, I almost lost myself to you. Because you soon seemed as the only way out of the terror of the relationship I had with them.

I gained my best friend that year because she helped save me from him, and ultimately you. I'm starting to worry though that you have grasped her tightly and I'm going to have to fight for her this time around.

That icy cold something you placed inside me still hasn't left. I feel it inside me every single time I receive one of those damn text forwards delivering the sad news that we lost another student at our school. I feel it every time I look into my friends eyes and don't see the shimmer that was there when we first met. And I feel it every time I get home and can still smell the latest date on my clothes.

Because you don't just steal lives. You steal hearts.

And I want mine back so I can remember that my mother picked me to be hers and really does want me to come back and visit some day. So I can maybe, one day, love the one who makes me smile and laugh and sings to me. I want mine back because there is so much beauty in this world and I want to see it all without you hanging inside my empty chest.

That's the real reason I'm writing to you Death. I want my heart back. You can have it when you take my life. But until then, give it back.

Wish You The Best

This song has been stuck in my head for about a week... I think it is beautiful. Hauntingly beautiful, but amazing nonetheless. It makes me think about a lot of people. My birth parents. My adoptive father. Too many friends to count. Some of the people have found their way back, and I am grateful for that. But some of them... well I wish them the best.

Miss You

We walked past each other in the parking lot a few days ago and we didn't even realize it until we were stepping past each other, feet away. I had to look especially close just to see who had called out my name.

Because you aren't you anymore.

The last time you were actually you was August 25 and we spent the night talking about dirt biking and I dropped everything to bring you ice cream after you got out of the hospital.

I was always scared you would finally leave, but the day it happened I didn't even notice. I had already shut you out because that is what I do best when my emotions are paralyzed with fear.

It would be easy for me to say that I am simply afraid of people leaving me, but since I have been given up and passed up and looked over and passed under so many times I am not afraid of that anymore. I have talked myself into convincing myself that everyone is going to leave, the only variable being when.

No, what I am more afraid of is so much harder to say and yet so much more cliche. They empower me, and they break me into a million pieces.

But the best thing to do is face fears, isn't it?

I am afraid of my emotions. And I will do anything to keep someone from using them, from knowing I have them. Because they are powerful and are the very thing that could destroy me. So I fight. I fight feeling them, fight acknowledging them, fight sharing them, fight showing them.

Did you leave because I didn't keep the connection? You got too close to the flame that was my emotion riddled heart and I didn't want you to get burned so I pushed my hand in the flames instead. I bit my tongue and let you walk away to find another heat source.

I wish I could tell you that I miss our late night talks and spontaneous drives. But you aren't around to hear my apologies anymore. Just because I couldn't let me burn you.

We Won't Forget

I'm worried that when the snow falls, we will forget all about the orange leaves.
I don't want to forget the smell of the earth we walked on.

I'm scared when we all finally walk across that stage, we will forget each other.
I don't want to be tossed aside like yesterday's newspaper.

We don't need empty promises and long goodbyes.
All I want are small smiles and gentle kisses on my cheek.

I won't need a fancy sports car or a date to prom.
I'll be satisfied with spontaneous sleep overs and 6 am hockey games.

And even when the air begins to warm again, and the sun once again shines
I'll still be only one phone call away, ready to take a last minute drive to your old neighborhood.

So when the clock strikes twelve and we leave this magic ball behind,
I won't be ready for it to end.

But I will be ready to hold each of your hands and face our future.
And I have a feeling when the time comes, we won't be afraid.

We won't have a reason to be.
Because together, even separate, we can do anything.

Trapped

I'm trapped. Trapped by walls of self doubt and silence.

All I ever wanted some closure and a second chance. And just when I thought I was going to be able to get them

you are too busy

too tired

too far away.

And I start to worry over every little thing, every detail, every word.

I don't know why I worry, you said yourself that I have done nothing wrong. It's because I'm trapped. Trapped but those looming, intimidating walls of self doubt and silence.

They make me analyze over and over again each message before I send it. They make me worry that every time you say I'll see if I can you really mean I don't want to.

And worst of all they make me scared that you'll read this post and know that I am talking about you, that it will make me seem obsessive and pathetic.

When all I really want to say is that I have no other voice that is brave enough to scale the walls I am trapped behind, no other voice that is strong enough to try and break through to you.

And the walls last defenses is to laugh at this small, daring voice insisting that you will never read this anyways. This almost stops me.

But then it's my turn to laugh and scream back at the walls What the hell! There is no harm in putting this out there if you never see it.

So here is the last voice willing to try. Throwing itself out into existence and hoping that I am not too late. Hoping that I am not just in love with someone long forgotten in the past.

Things I Have Never

I have never been asked to a dance.

I have never traveled east of Colorado.

I have never been to Disney World.

I have never spent a night in a haunted building.

I have never touched the Atlantic Ocean.

I have never spent a night alone in my house.

I have never met somebody famous.

I have never broken a bone.

I have never liked spicy food.

I have never had a television in my own room.

I have never smoked a cigarette.

I have never owned an Iphone.

I have never lived anywhere but Utah.

I have never visited my grandmas grave.

I have never been to prom or homecoming.

I have never seen a dead body.

I have never made more than $8 an hour.

I have never been camping without a parent.

I have never been in a car accident.

I have never liked kids.

I have never been 100% completely honest in any relationship or friendship.

Regret To Inform You

I regret to inform you that I cannot actually tell you how to do anything.

I can't tell you how to fall in love because every time I do, it is not returned. I can't tell you how to piss someone off because I do it without even trying. I can't tell you how to fry a fish because I prefer baking. I can't tell you how to dance because my dance moves are limited to awkward shuffling and spinning in endless circles.

I was not born to be a teacher. When something finally makes sense in my head I can't tell someone else exactly why it does or how to understand it themselves. I can't tell you how to write a good English essay, or how to solve a radical equation.

I can't tell you how to drive a car because I drive mine much too fast. I can't tell you how to succeed in business because I've never made more than 8 dollars an hour. I can't tell you how to make friends because the ones I have somehow found me and I'm not even sure why they are still here.

I can't tell you how to look your best because most the time all I wear is jeans and a hoodie. I can't tell you how to believe in a greater being because I am not religious. I can't give you instructions on how to become a poet or tell you step by step how to make a good blog.

So I'm sorry this wasn't informative or instructional.

Actually, I'm not. I'm not sorry that I can't tell you how to do something. Because in my opinion, nobody can tell you how to live. We learn and discover by our own trial and error. So if you are having to rely on someone as insignificant as me to give you instructions on how to do something,

then you are doing it wrong.