Eighteen

Today is my eighteenth birthday.

I have a job, a car and now eighteen years of memories.

I can go to all those doctor visits by myself, sign all the necessary paperwork.
I can move out into my house if I want to do so, and I can do it right now, (assuming money/school weren’t an issue, of course.)
I can register to vote for the president of my country, have my own opinion that may or may not minutely affect the polling system and, ultimately, the choice for who leads the country in which I live.
I can buy a lottery ticket.
I can smoke cigarettes and not be questioned.
I can buy porn.
I can go to jail.
I can stay out past midnight.
I can get married.

It’s a strange, dizzying feeling to realize that I am able right at this moment to do what I want to do, within reason. The world seems so much larger after knowing and evaluating the true weight of these things that I can do. Can, present tense. There is no future tense anymore.

My life as I know it has ended, descending into ashes as a new life ascends, only a meager ember at the moment. With prodding and room to breathe, it will erupt into vivacious flame, and my new life will sprint across the earth, leaving creation in its wake. My new life will be my forever remembered eruption into what can now be called adulthood.

This strange spiraling moment will not last forever, or even a few days, but it will take root in my soul and sprout a blossom of violet creation and inspiration. I am now obligated to make myself happy.

This is a milestone, as they say, and this stretch of mile will be unpredictable. However, I can predict that it will be one of the happiest couple of years of my life, simply because I refuse to ignore the importance of happiness and aesthetics anymore. This is my last year of required schooling, and I am determined to make it the best year possible, not only for myself, but all of those I choose to love and cherish. This year will be unforgettable. It’s time for us to breathe again.

This is it.

I'm unnecessarily angry right now.

You

are

a

narcissistic

self-involved

life-sucking

drama

queen

that

feeds

off

others'

flaws

to

diminish

your

own

I

can't

believe

I

put

up

with

you

I

eagerly

await

the

day

when

we

go

off

to

different

colleges

and

never

see

each

other

again

Can you believe it?

If your life flashes before your eyes as you die, what does that say about the afterlife?

Do you forget everything once you get over there?

If your life flashes before your eyes and that's the last time that can ever happen, could that mean that the memories are simply streaming from your body, like tears and blood dripping and swirling into a river of nostalgia and past lives?

What if a memory stays with you when you go to the afterlife, like a stubborn insect unable to be shaken from the bottom of a shoe? Would that mean that heaven, hell, the next life, your rebirth, was false, since it wouldn't be a completely fresh slate? Is it possible for your repressed memories to clog up your nacent mind? A gurgling confusion that roils with doubt? Naive questions about life, love, and pursuit, all leading to pointlessness and an overused drainage system?

As my eyes protest any more use and their shields simmer to a close, I consider the necessity of grief and sanity. If peanuts had more protein, we could just eat them instead of cows.

For a lack of better words.

My hands tingle with laziness.

I don't want to be typing this right now, but I don't want to be doing anything at all right now.

I don't want to adjust my leg even though it's falling asleep.

I don't want to turn music on even though it's uncomfortably silent.

I don't want to go out with friends even though I feel isolated from the world.

I just want to stay right here, with my tingling listlessness and prickling solitude.

I miss you, Nicole. <3

Balloons

by Julia Nunes



Years went by and we got older.
Remember the days when gas was sold
for $1.50 a gallon? Oh, how things have changed,
like those stylish fads
and the look on your face.

When you see me for the first time
in years.
We swore we'd never end up
here.

Well, I won't
be alone.
If it’s gone,
I'll move on.

It’s time to leave, while my eyes are still dry.
It’s time to leave, while my head is held high.
It’s time to bolt, time to bail, time to go.
Where to?
Well, I really don't
know.

I'm gone. So long, see you soon.
Up, up and away, like a rising balloon.
I'm just stupid enough to pack up and leave,
taking all that you have trusted and confided in me.

Hug me now because you might lose your chance.
I am crouched in my sprinting stance.

Time to bolt, time to bail, time to go
'cause I let you get way too close.

I'm gone. So long, see you soon.
Up, up and away, like a rising balloon.
I'm just crazy enough to leave you behind,
though you're like nothing I have found or will find.

Years went by and we got older.
Remember the days when gas was sold
for 1.50 a gallon? Oh, how things have changed,
like those stylish fads
and the look on your face.

When you see me for the first time
in years.
We swore we'd never end up
here.

Well, I won't
be alone.

I have an awful lot of intense nightmares.

I've had four about my dad trying to kill me.

I'm not quite sure what that says about my view of our relationship.

I'm very much a person that believes in the truth and relevance of dreams and nightmares. I like to take other people's dreams and analyze them to see what they mean.

I had a dream that I almost had sex with Andrew Volpe but told him I couldn't 'cause I had a boyfriend. Andrew Volpe is the lead singer of a band I used to worship, and he's really hot, to me. Basically.

Here's a dream I had the other night that I can't get out of my head:


I was in a college at some fancy function. The scenery was red, gold, brown and black. I was walking aimlessly, and everyone was dressed nicely.

A girl sat on the red-carpeted stairs. She wore all black clothes, and they were mostly tattered and ripped. There was a tall, gold sign next to her that read, "Please leave her alone. Thank you." She was covered in blood. As I approached the stairs, her ovaries/vagina just started pouring more blood onto the stairs. Not just "she needs a pad." Like "she needs to go to a hospital because she's just been stabbed," except no one had stabbed her.

I was tempted to obey the sign, but she started shaking and she sighed, muttering to herself about how "it's starting again" and she needed napkins or something. I found towels and gave them to her, offering to take her to the hospital.

She grinned in embarrassment, and it was probably the most beautiful smile in the dream world. She nodded and stood, taking my hand after cleaning off her own and saying, "Thank you so much. Everyone just kept walking past and I didn't know why."

I had her arm over my shoulders to help her stand, but on the way out we kept running into people that wanted to just stop and talk to me. They seemed completely unfazed that I was assisting a girl covered in blood. I ended up ignoring them and carrying her to my car.

Upon starting the engine and pulling out of my parking spot, I realized I didn't know how to get out of the parking lot. I looked up and saw my dad's Mustang, then I looked to the girl and said, "That's my dad. We'll follow him. He knows the way." And with that, we followed him out of the parking lot over one ridiculously steep hill.


If that isn't one string of metaphors, I don't know what is.

I don't know what it means, though.

I showed Cristin my blog today and she wanted to subscribe to it.

Somehow I doubt she'll ever read it again.

August

by Julia Nunes

Sweet night and our chemistry
make my rapid heart
beat naturally,
and our organic minds -
while the others climb,
we contemplate,
“What is time?”

The night is dark,
and the lights are low,
but the laughter rises,
continues so.

Time flies by.

Sweet night and our chemistry
make my rapid heart
beat naturally,
and our organic minds -
while the others climb,
we contemplate,
“What is time?”

Time flies by.

Yeah, lie on the porch
with my head in your lap -
this is a simple combination
that makes me so happy,
and these could be
the happiest days of my life.

Yeah, lie on the porch
with my head in your lap -
this is a simple combination
that makes me so happy,
and these could be
the happiest days of my life.

(The night is dark,
and the lights are low,
but the laughter rises
and continues so.

Time flies by.
Time flies by.
Time flies by.)

Sweet night and our chemistry
make my rapid heart
beat naturally,
and our organic minds -
while the others climb,
we contemplate,
“What is time?”

Time flies by.

Sweet night…