please, remember me.

thick.

every day is an ending. each day a beginning. a cycle of hours and titles that we give slots of time. we restrain ourselves. naturally many things have happened over this most famous of restraints. exactly a year ago from today. the flutter in awe of cuff links and liquor glazed eyes. i could tell i loved because i was in pain. i think that therein lies how we know, how we know what our hearts already understand. you'll be in pain. my eyes are constantly tired, my body doesn't move like my mind wants it to. i know the change and i'm making it. it's not for you. it's for myself. a selfish desire that everyone concedes is good. i've stopped trying so hard and everything feels lighter. i've started embracing the daylight, knocking out plaster and papermached windows, scrubbing away grime to let the light filter in. it's a slow process, but i'm making it. i've become more emotional, more in tune with the depth of sorrow, the strains of sadness. it's made me desensitized. today, adam taught me something. he verified what i already felt. i've become more like you. i guess that's what my subconscious wanted, but i hate it. i hate how my hands are lackluster and fumble, how i can never seem to make it worth it. i hate how my heart feels empty, how it longs for something that it can't seem to find. on freshly placed pillows, my head turned towards a wall, my spirit shared a self-reflection that it hadn't intended. i'm impatient, as always, but i know that what awaits will be what i've wanted. nature does nothing in vain, right lewis? call it a spiral, call it a twister, call it a curl of ribbon that i wrapped around a vile of thoughts. it scares me when i start to forget, when i begin to reflect less. gretchen says that my problems are due to that, that constant need to reflect and plan. it's a defense mechanism, admittedly, but it's also my oxygen, how i survive. it hurts that i can't depend on myself. it stings how dependent i have become. right now words are swelling rapidly, acting as a fog, a heavy settling on my forehead. i used to wish for a pen that could tap this fog gently in hieroglyphics on a piece of paper or some blinking cursor. i found that pen. it's a chewed up bic, a topless paper-mate, times new roman. miracles can happen.

he died, i died, she killed herself. those same liquor glazed eyes grew warm to my own, who were new in their blinking fog, a different fog than the one i knew well. i was scared. i still am. i don't want to be that tide. i don't want you to be the moon. i want to be the tiny crabs that we dug up on the beach, wet and snug in their densely packed homes, somehow safe from the pounding of bare feet and water- only a tiny pock marking their addresses. i wonder how they get mail. i'll dig way down to protect myself from the pecking beaks of sea gulls. i'll squirm warm and panicked in the june sun, cupped in the palm of a curious someone who means no harm. misinterpreting their intentions, i'll flip and run, jumping off the cliff of their fingers and landing on my desert. i'll dig again until i find myself alone and shaken, breathing heavily in the darkness of my own tomb.

this is too dark and too deep, too many shades of blue and not enough green. i'm brighter than this, i swear. my fingers enter pillow cases and locks but my mind screams neons and ice water, slicing open the wound that you thought was healed. that was a mistake, but it was a mistake we all need to make. it reminds you that you are human. it reminds you that a year is just a year, that there is no reset button, and that all you can hope for is that you don't forget what you desire. sure i'll make my own resolutions, but a resolution can be made any day, any time, any fraction that you spend during this period of time that we call life. don't forget to listen to yourself. the twilight zone is on. guide yourself along that heavily shaded path, listen to the soft jangle of wind chimes and the scent of honeysuckle.

too much sleep

sleeping with nickels

i find comfort in the familiarity of my head.

it seems that i left it here all along.

the loneliness, too, is welcomed;

here it is a part of life.

so many people

so many cars

so many places to go

but it still feels empty

like the remotes that slide between cushions

and the numbness of legs that have been crossed for too long.

mountains have risen dramatically

where a valley once lay dreaming.

nostalgia and forgetfulness form a union

in a cathedral that's decorated for no one.

their bands overly extravagant

marking a relationship that'll inevitably be lost

simply by their pairing.

friends quote you sin quotation marks.

they seem to have forgotten the words of a year past

their minds and hands wiped clean of everything that

has been engraved on your palms,

written in your cereal.

you too, start to be confused by a past that once was constant.

doubting the spelling of words,

ruining jokes-

the timing seems to be off.

the white watch smiles condescendingly. 

it'll all work out.

you'll listen to the songs that everyone else has deemed noteworthy

similar to the stories of a year that are told repeatedly-

conforming in a seemingly alternative format

but conforming none the less.

you'll choose your doll clothes for the concealed audience

and, standing in the middle of the crowd,

you'll start to feel the creeping disappointment

of someone who's trying too hard 

to be noticed.

better in theory.

i'm done with bags of donated clothes

vs. money that slips easily through fingers

and mysterious holes in pockets.

it's an expressionless pain.

it's sometimes easier 

to start anew

than to try to make things work.

this makes me a failure

and a fatalist simultaneously. 

it's always easier

to start anew

but i'm growing too tired.

bite your tongue.

mimic the silence that you admire.

philosophy of the human being

i'm glad that we're always growing, always changing.

happily i'll return to billy joel records,

questioning the philosophy of desmond hume,

debating about questions we'll never have answers to-

just as long as i'm with you.

after i part ways with the moderate dualists and idealists,

shake hands with aristotle,

giving him my meekest smile,

i'll be on my way back to you.

make sure locke and hurley are ready.

“A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, and make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.” -Elizabeth Gilbert

fantastical aspirations 

like reading every book in the world

put into perspective 

the small feats that i accomplish day to day.

BIG LETTERS

i've started to fear emotions,

or at least being committed to them.

i used to be a sharp rock

jutting my teeth out of jagged navy waves

barking my opinions

making changes.

now i've become the muted wake

letting everything slide over

letting it pass

letting it be.

exclamations give away your naiveté;

it's overused.

BIG LETTERS show pretend anger;

you're not getting anywhere with it.

and where am i getting with an analysis of typography?

writing resurrects;

dissecting smothers the life,

leaving only ash.

i meant "atrocious."

December 4, 2010

"You will meet an important person who will help you advance professionally."

I think that none of my fortunes come true because I don't eat the cookie.

I feel like that's an incentive (sentive?);

it'll only be granted if you actually consume the cookie.

I can't be sure but I think that's how life works-

You can only receive the benefits if you do the work.

I guess I fail.

PS. My handwriting is terrible. (I'd say the "a" word, but I don't think my drunken mind can handle it.

-Michelle Campbell

Who'd think I'd be here now?

Footnotes:

This was a four thirty am. rambling on a piece of notebook paper ripped from my friend's binder, which I struggled to find in his desk drawers for fifteen minutes. Please note the missing parenthesis, the usage of "who," and my inability to spell "atrocious" and "incentive." I personally like the end remark. It's the only truthful aspect.

draft from: december 3, 2010

i was hoping that you'd have a cooler winter coat.

you know, one that was as impractical as mine.

we drove around for 45 minutes because you wouldn't go behind that tree. earth thanks you, i'm sure.

i'm thinking about the days spent walking under the gw bridge

breaking sandals

and scraping calfs.

i was too lost in my own self agony

to enjoy the sun.

soon enough i'll get a second chance

at sharp grass & honeysuckle.

i promise i won't get mad

at being stuck on a broken dock

while you sip pbr

and we welcome the first chill of a dying summer.

i promise that my mind won't be anywhere

but in edgewater.

happy birthday, self.

here's to another year of life.

a circular stream of speckled prophecy. read: a birthday-induced two am. ramble

my room smells like the winter of two years past.

the bathroom-like my sister's maturity.

today i stood up for the first time

and realized how old i was.

with every inch that my spine uncoiled, i gained another year.

staring at her fridge, she reads my mind.

"that was fifteen years ago," she reminded.

it scared me to think that i can say that,

that i can remember something that happened fifteen years ago.

i'm having a mid-mid-life crisis

because i'm slowly remembering that i have expectations.

i have things that i want to do,

i have goals. 

craig and the sensual seahorses reunion tour.

we built our own world;

it was entirely too perfect for it to come from anywhere other than our minds.

i can imagine everything clearly.

the blues and grays,

the biting wind and sharp stinging.

everything was a mess

and everything moved about us in swirls.

we moved it all.

i sat at a desk in a room half-remembered from a dream

but couldn't place its' roots in my mind.

i know those bland walls

and the harsh lights.

we found exactly what we weren't looking for

on blank, cushioned cubes

listening to the whistling

of an already dead woman.

you asked if i wanted to dance like they were

and i said no, not being sure of your sincerity.

i can never be certain of your intentions,

but i want you to know

that the answer is always yes.

fate of the silly bandz.

we're getting older.

you can see it in the way that we talk about tomorrow

or get through today.

the art of criticism has been mastered

but we're still learning how to take it.

we've started to create ourselves

just now realizing that we can shape and mold,

form and plan.

we've migrated from couches and basements,

to spend time with the trees-

lost in the woods

looking for nothing but oxygen.

we question the usage of exclamation points

and doubt the sincerity of kindness.

trading in our rainbows for the grays of contentment,

there's a slight struggle,

but we give in

knowing this this is all inevitable.

how interesting to realize

that one day

wearing a seal-shaped rubber band on my wrist will not be appropriate.

mezcla

i know you're reading this.

i'm late night blogging

like a sleep-walking writer.

people make bets with themselves all of the time.

this was mine.

the sweater.

october 2008

june 2009

january 2010

chelsea lately re-runs

i need to find someone

to go exploring with at two am.

i guess it's obvious

how content i am.

two posts is a bit obsessive.

i rarely ever do this, but i have thoughts.

i was thinking of sending a facebook message, but felt that it lacked an impact.

i watch myself from both the outside and inside at all times.

i imagine that whoever is watching me make make the umpteepth bright eyes video for you is getting bored.

i wonder when i'll tire from it.

what's your life soundtrack?

this is my assumption that you play one for yourself everyday, like i do.

i think this is why we mesh.

we're seeing a show when i get home. anyone, anywhere.

i think we've created a new element.

epiphany.

i'm back.

you wish you had this freedom.

i've been drowning myself in a shallow puddle;

it's simple to get up, but so tempting to lie here and submit.

leniency is the issue.

i had once questioned whether or not it was impossible to bend or break,

but have come to realize that i sway too easily.

full power and concern is given to the other.

focus

and believe.

remember

that breathing is important.

north of easter.

i've been feeling dry.

worn out and twisted,

every droplet of motivation

has been coaxed out.

but all it took was a day's worth of panic attacks

and two hours of crumpled lucidness

to become drenched.

you are my home.

i'm searching on google to answer the mystery of you

even though i've perused your every intricacy.

i want to see what the outsider sees,

what anyone else would think if they saw you on the street.

there's something that continually puzzles me about

this.

even i remain an enigma.

this doesn't fit with our pattern.

waiting.

maelstrom.

and i'm sucked back in.

the slow embraces and mouthless kisses;

my heart is void of something, anything.

we're trying to force this

because logic deems it rational.

i wish i could love you; i really do.

how unfortunate that our complexities

leaves us even- with nothing to offer the other.

but this is fine.

this is apathy at it's finest.

i just struggle with the fear that 

this 

is the fullest another person can fill me.

distance, distant.

which do you really have a problem with?

this is not an opportunity for you to rattle off what you know;

anyone can do that.

make us think.

keep this for those cloudy blankets

keep this for those times when your thoughts become too deep to climb out of.

hennepin

the free scoop of ice cream

the late night chat

the offer to buy gum

the movie watched to keep company

the elevator music.

it shows how many little things

create one warm wave of belonging.

"night is the blotting paper for many sorrows. "

this is how it works, it feels a little worse

i feel so stupid- there's no other word.

i'm racing on but still keep looking back; when did you stop?

tenacity keeps me going

and the track continues, the end completely out of sight

but we have faith that it's there.

when did this become too much for you?

did you even think to clue me in?

with a deep breath

and the kind of finality that can only be acknowledged in one's mind

i do the only thing that i've ever hated-

cross-country.

goodbye jersey

it's raining softly

but it's still too much noise for a sunday morning.

my body turned to rubber as we turned the corner,

making the strategically high ceilings and wide windows futile.

there's something about the forced silence that makes me want to scream.

i hope that this wasn't goodbye.

lose the emphasis on the "i," michelle.

it might not be true to who you are-

it most definitely won't be true to what you desire,

but sometimes it's better to disregard emotion

and act upon logic.

i've never been one to find comfort in

a

plus

b

divided by indecision

multiplied by gray areas

to produce philosophy

but in the end

it's easier.

i'm being a coward in the bravest way possible.

second guessing every thought

every light touch

every conversation

becomes too heavy eventually.

[the soul can only track so much]

even writing this makes me grow uneasy.

i'm worried that you'll read it, no longer making it mine.

the sad (or in this instance more realistic) truth is that you'll never see these empty pixels;

this pitiful attempt at reassurance.

no one or thing is ever to blame for these forced puzzle pieces. It's life, right?

but i'm a hypocrite. i'm feeling angry at myself for having these emotions

i'm feeling ashamed of being so human.

when did i fool myself into believing that i was anything more?

weariness creeps in. there are two planes and i'm lightly blinking in the dotted lines between them. you might be able to pretend like you're safely settled on one, with your computer generated image, your mixed media plastered paper mâché. but once the thought to venture in-between materialized, you disrupted your own balance as well.

this is only a temporary status. permanent for now, but really, temporary for the big picture.

no decision made with the head for matters of the heart will be satisfactory.

no decision made with the heart for matters of the heart will be logical.

but this time, it's not right.

someone once told me in her drunken stupor to find something that's worth the hurt.

maybe i took her words too literally.

"Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions."

i want you, i need you, oh baby oh baby.

everything feels better now

when really

nothing has changed.

it's funny how that works.

anne hutchinson.

i should be writing about the millions of things that are on my mind

but i can't seem to sit still.

i just thought i'd let you know.

patience.

i can't pretend that i know what's to come

but i can pretend that i'll be alright with it.

accept

progress

and try not to retract.

embrace this that is your life.

dangling conversation

i've decided that the people in my life

are smoldering charcoals in my fire pit heart.

days,

months,

even years

will pass without so much as a conversation

and yet

those sparks that brought friends together years ago

can still be ignited.

lake michigan

maine.

seven is such a sweet number.

of course you know this.

it's saturday morning.

i'm listening to death cab and letting my mind do what it does best:

over-think.

i let it stretch from the very beginning

to the days to come;

both sets are blurry.

i wonder when i became a winter

when i swore that i was always a fall.

i wonder what you prefer.

probably a summer or spring.

i was never a girl that looked good in pink

or was able to depend on her looks to spark someone's interest.

it involves more work,

but in the end,

doesn't that involve more substance?

today i thought of a mantra

something new to hold on to

something true that i always seem to forget.

do you love yourself?

do you think you're worthy?

then darling, why would you ever allow someone else to question it?

this would be easy if i could pretend that there wasn't someone out there for both of us.

but i know there is.

and yes, we'll find them

but in the mean time, i wish i could have something to hold on to.

when did we get so old?

beyond this

for now, i'm alone

in the open garden

with ivy streamers

and a mossy wall

i sit by myself and write.

it's a truth that i keep

hoping someone

someday

will know it too.

amsterdam.

it's shocking and nonsensical

but somehow seems so familiar.

it's that kind of day.

after ten hours of sleep

i still long to dream.

this was inevitable.

it's the deja vu that i've had so often 

that it never makes me awestruck

or dumbfounded,

that, "wow. this is the in-between" dialogue never runs through my head.

i wonder when i'm going to be unable to present you with anything new,

anything to keep you interested

because this is my deepest fear.

this would be much easier if i knew where i wanted to go from here.

i have spent most of my life initiating,

always doing.

why would i stop now?

i can't give you an answer to this,

but something is telling me to let it happen.

maybe i always made my fate

instead of allowing it to consume me.

i don't know why i do this to myself.

progression

it's been years.

i've grown up and so have you.

but you died long ago, my friend.

the ashes of conversations we once could have had,

the memories of a relationship that never existed.

i find it hard to believe that any of the people i've met

or those i've simply brushed up against

or ever shared the same air space with

wasn't supposed to have shared the same experience with me.

this is meant to happen

simply because it is.

so enjoy it

don't worry so much about the, "why?"

as much as the, "what to do next?"

better things are coming, i swear there's truth in that.

i'm not hungry 

so 

i'm bordering between munching on shit food and air to satisfy my lack of a craving.

the constant squeaking of the dryer is endless

and the clock is speedily hurtling towards sunset.

i feel the need to launch myself into something, anything to make this day seem more worthwhile.

i hate not feeling accomplished.

a posting from all of my stickies on my mac

Door tags-

sweet things- cupcakes, ice cream, brownies, etc.

hot cocoa mugs

crystal balls

need to buy: glitter, confetti

28 Monmouth drive

east northport, NY 11731

have you ever thought about a particular deja vu that has happened in your past though?

have you ever thought about deja vu?

we name and claim everything that we see. we create what we see and state, we created it. we're living in a false sense of reality. 

i think that happens to us all of the time with major things. or at least with some people. 

it's all about society. if w want to go off of the god thing, if his way is the right way and the only way that brings true and holy and purposeful meaning, then wouldn;t he want us to understand and feel some physical/emotional twinges to let us know that we're going against some kind of moral behavior?

hershey kisses

chicken soup for the soul quotes

i want to...

Lockiophobia

Trypanophobia 

senticous 

snollygoster

lubency

boscaresque

"elyse... did you just get a dead baby in the mail?"

"it was a love tap."

"yes. a love tap... in your eye.... with a spike."

"we should write a song."

"a screamo song."

"and call it public mastication."

"I DESTROY NATURE."

"i can't quit you baby."

"yeah, i'm pulling that rubber out of my ass..."

"i haven't met you in forever!"

"'omg michelle! have you heard the story about the old men fighting over the arm seat?!'

'no!'

*silence*

'do you plan on telling me?'"

"he is pretty hot... for a lion."

"i don't get."

"if there was anyone i'd want to get in a car accident with, it'd be you."

"well at least you know he's bi."

"scared or like he just came, i can't tell."

Prayers:

alyssa- john's friend

ed fishkill

lady who bowed during church

lauren

lauren's mom

carl

jaime's friend eden and her dad

adriana's gpa

theresa from work

kevin- green day

people who hand out flyers in the city

bernie and his family

the rainbow connection

i wish that i could splay out every shard of my life
on a flat surface,

examining the paths that each one brings

and tracing it back to the beginning;

playing an endless record of possibilites and tracking every thought and motion.

don't forget to spend time with yourself.

why are you so afriad of being alone?

it's strange to play practical jokes on yourself

strange to expierement with the norm

turn off your phone

give up facebook.

what pointless connections to a world that we're already a part of.

i was thinking the other day

about how we used to connect when we were younger.

how i would sit in my kitchen with my parents and memorize my phone number

and those of my best friends

and the handful of people that were my world.

we were never able to see where the date that was late was

or where the aloof mother was long after pick-up had ended.

i hate myself for depending too much on others.

i've gotten better

so much to an extent that

others have started to feel ostracized.

i'll let everyone in

but no longer bother to weigh the feelings of others heavier.

this is a double-edged sword. no it's not

it's not a cliche

because it's real.

i am so sick of cliches

and the uncliches.

why use a metaphor when i can tell it how it is?

i'm tired of the collection agencies calling

and even when we do answer

(always me giving in to reality)

it isn't even a human being on the other end.

is it so hard to ask for human connection?

i just found one.

a surprised, tired voice.

i don't know if it was male or female

but does it really matter?

people always forget

but

ultimately we are the ones that determine things.

you're doing this to yourself

and you don't even realize it.

don't look at me like i'm the stranger

when you can't even recognize yourself.

organic.

why change something if it doesn't need to be fixed?

i'm stuck in an ever-changing cycle of mediocracy and mundanity

of what is now and what can be

and whether or not it's worth it.

i'm no longer editing

just thinking

and letting it come

organic.

is it possible to be completely organic in a world that thrives upon mechanics?

i am in no rush

to live the life that i'm meant to live

but i have no direction.

i want everything

and so i do everything

spreading myself out thinly

like an exploding oak, my arms cancerous as they spread wider and wider.

it engulfs and consumes

until i am all alone

in a web that was only designed

so that i could touch others.

gotta love xkcd

itchy.

taut hot skin

and calloused heels

grass stained knees

and dry hands.

hot, sweet, sweat and earthy air

tufts of softness among the resilient and flexible blades

cheap black plastic, toss them to the side;

you don't have any time for fogged lenses.

delicious, cool clavicle

and a finding nemo bed.

welcome grandmother oak

and afternoon sun.

hello hines hall lawn.

tearing up my heart

i'm listening to the kind of nineties music that i used to indulge myself on.

i distinctly remember sitting in the middle of my living room floor

playing with my CD player that i had gotten for christmas in the 1st grade

and listening to n'sync.

for some reason,

i just felt strangely attracted

to the light

happy

connotation

of boy harmony

today.

hello, dear friends.

all points west.

i haven't delved into my storage section of neon in a while.

but the rain is just cold enough,

and the air is just warm enough

to make a vision in the air;

the mixture of the two of them.

this blog is shit and i know it.

i haven't written in so long.

i am jumping at the chance to start summer concert tours

to smell like earth

and feel light

despite the layers of grass shavings, warm beer, and mud on my legs and shoes;

the weight of it all settling in my socks.

christina, i can still smell that sickly scent of sweat and wetness in my nose.

it's so terrible, that it makes me ache to experience it again.

spring fever

that itch to move and breathe in deeply has increased tremendously in the past few days.

the earth is bursting with dampness and budding grass seed.

i can feel it pulsating when i breathe in that deep green air.

tonight i'm going to make my legs burn

and my lungs gasp.

i'm going to make sure that i know i'm alive.

if only i had a more vibrant vocabulary.

unexpected college indecisions

i'm caught between tradition and the new.

i'm caught between the dreams that have always comforted me

and the excitement that unchartered desires brings.

my restless nights are now filled with sugar cane fields,

my hands marred by slashes and my eyes too dry to cry.

i know nothing of another world.

my restless days are now filled with medicaid forms,

my hands gripping tight to bills and my eyes too dry to cry.

i know things about both worlds.

which is better?

to be naive and unexposed

or to have dreams and expectations

succumb to nothing?

ponytail

this is something new

and i don't want to taint it

by reverting back to past favorites.

oh well, dispatch.

february post #1

i woke up with, "smile like you mean it" stuck in my head, and i'm wondering if it was some kind of foreshadowing for the day.

it's currently seven oh-six pm. on a friday night before our spring break 

and i'm sitting in my room trying to figure out what homework i have to do.

i wonder when i became so motivated.

manny.

i surround myself by the intellectuals.

the quiet ones though,

not the loud ones with berets and easels in hand,

just so "coincidentally" having fingerless gloves and a joint in their pocket.

it's an unspoken,

concealed,

tip-off.

chipped nail polish,

a bag of stolen jewelry and headbands,

bland t-shirts,

and silence during social situations.

i've forgotten to be with myself recently.

i've spent too much time riding around in cars,

settling on couches,

and watching movies that i never wanted to see in the first place.

why do i give away the moments of silence in bed

looking out the window?

why do i so easily forgo completing a dream

in place of remaining in the comfort of what i know?

ask yourself this.

when did i become afraid to live?

2010

"he is my now, and, i'm hoping, you will be my someday."