Tired is only word, with so many different parts.


There are the days where you wake up tired as if you had never gone to bed. Those days are full of tears, high tempters, vague answer, and shrinking into yourself.


There are the bright and jazzy days. You do anything and everything until you utterly exhausted. But it is the happy kind of tired. Listening to 90’s music on the radio, and sipping a vanilla milkshake.


There are the days where nature takes your breath away, as you hike through a forest littered with pine-cones. The cold air and bold and vibrant colors have a different kind of tired. They have the invigorated kind of tired, where you feel accomplishment.


There is the sleepy coast town kind of tired. The salt air, and the warm sun. The shifting sand, and the untamed ocean. This kind of tired of full of salt crusted hair, seashells, sand castles, and brightly colored umbrellas. This is the sweet kind of tired, all calm and full of soft beach towels.


The sick day tired, where your eyes won’t open. Your head feels like a hammer is hitting it, and your forehead is burning up. This is the miserable and grey tired. All black and grey as it worms fingers through your body and makes you feel weak.


There is the car trip tired. Where you wake up every few hours in a different place, full of flashing neon lights and the zooming of cars on the inner state. This is the reserved kind of tired, full of has station stops and restroom breaks.


There is the angry kind of tired, with slamming doors and angrily brushed teeth. Frustrated tears, and wet pillows.


Late night happy tired, when everyone is asleep. You walk quietly around the house, a sleepy smile on your face. You sip hot cocoa and look through old photo albums. Your eyes get wet from nostalgia and you surround yourself with pictures. Memories. You scribble down half finish thoughts, of poetry that you might never finish. This is the best kind of tired to me.


There is the city kind of tired, where you curl up on your window seat, your laptop illuminating your face. Your fat grey cat curls around your legs, and your fingers dance across the keys.


The lonely kind of tired as you twirl the short strands of hair that don’t fit into your ponytail around your finger. Pop music plays through your earbuds as you stare up at the ceiling. You started playing music to block out your thoughts, but no matter how much you turn the music up, it does not.






She whispered softly as her older sister held her, tears streaming down her face, “Why does heartbreak hurt so much?” Her older sister paused, and said, ” It hurts because someone you gave you three months, two days, and an hour too, left you. It hurts because he dug his way into your heart, and planted roses. The same roses which thorns are not cutting you apart. Heartbreak hurts, darling, because love hurts, but some of the best things do.” The sobs where quieter now, as the younger girl whispered, “How can I get over him?” The older girl sighed, and said,”You can just get over someone, only learn to live without them, and live with the holes they tore in your heart.” The older sister then rose, and walked over to her nightstand drawer, and removed a faded blue journal. She held it out to the girl with the tear stained cheeks and said, “Read.” The younger girl looked at the title, which said in her sister’s younger writing, “The guide to heartbreak.” A smile threated to come through, but she only turned to the first page. And read aloud, ” One, Stop thinking about him. You are not on his mind. Two, Put down your phone, he is not going to text you,” At this her eyes strayed to her phone lying on the bed. ” Three, Take a nice bath, do something good for youself. Four, Get dressed, do your make-up, and go out for dinner, and five, Think about yourself and who you are, do not let this take over your life.” She fliped the page, but the rest of the journel was empty. Her older sister said, “Keep it, follow the five things, and make your own, because heartbreak is only the path way to love.”

“He still asks about me?” She questioned.

“Yes,” her friend said, “It’s always been you. I never think he got over you.”

A sad smile slipped on her face as she said, “I never quite got over him either.”


She asked how to be a storm, a great dark cloud of power, but instead, they told her how to be a mist, a soft cloud of pearly grey.

She asked how to be a wildfire, aflame with the heart of a lioness. They told her to be an ember, hidden beneath ashes until her flame was all gone.

But they never told her how to unleash the storm which she hid beneath her skin.

They never told her how to be invincible,

And that was all she wanted.

Three Days

“I don’t know what to do. I’m tired of always going back to him, but I can’t imagine life without him.” She says  with drooping shoulders. Her friend smiles sadly and says “Wait three days. If he hasn’t texed or called, you where not worth a minute of those seventy two hours. I can’t promise you that it won’t hurt, or that you won’t cry because you will, but I can promise you that is is better then spending days with someone who doesn’t appriciate you.” They both sniffled, their eyes unfocused as they thought of someone who had broken their hearts, with a simple goodbye.




“Tell me what you think about when you can’t fall asleep at night,” He said. Her eyes lit up like a thousand metor showers and she said, “I think about your eyes which sparkle like the galaxy’s. I think about your smile, and how you light up my world like nothing I have ever seen. I think about the way your hand holds mine, and how you hold more mysteries then any universe. I think about you, the only person who can handle my supernova.”

“Your hopelessly romantic, you know that right?” He asked teasingly his eyes lingering on her face. She shrugged, and said, “Everyone has their always, and infinity, I just haven’t found me yet. So until I do, I can always dream.” He shook his head, his eyes twinkling a cobalt blue. “How would you know when you found your okay?” She gasped, and pointed an accusing finger at his face, ” You did read Fault in our Stars!” A slight pink blush covered his cheeks, and he mumbled, “Back to the question.”  He didn’t want to admit that she had been the reason he had read it and held her tightly the next time he saw her, afraid that he would lose her.She giggled, the sound utterly enchanting to him. She said, ” When you find your okay, or your always, then you will know somehow. A feeling deep inside your heart, blooming and blossoming to the fullest. You will love that person until the stars die, or the universe completely stops existing. You will be utterly captivated by their flaws, endlessly love their little quirks and fetishes, and never give up on them. They are the person who lights a flame inside you, but sometimes heartbreak follows.” Her eyes were saddened, and she said, ” Because the worst truth is that the person who lights an endless match inside you, might not always stay.” He was quiet, his blue eyes like the stormy sea swirling with emotion. She sniffled slightly, and rubbed her eyes mumbling, ” How utterly tragic.” He sighed, and hugged her she said, “Have you found that person yet?” He stared into her eyes, which always reminded him of a fern, the light enchanting green that had captured his attention the first time he saw her. His emotions were conflicted and twisted into knots of doubt and apprehension. He, at last, said, “Have you?” She said with a smile that was almost blinding to him,  “No, unless you mean the fictional ones.” He laughed, and she wiggled out his hug, sitting more comfortably on her beanbag chair. He took a deep breath, nervousness invading his lungs as he said, ” I might have found my okay.” She smiled and clapped her hands in excitement. “Who? Who?!” She demanded, and his eyes were tender when he said,”You.”

Happily Ever After

“It still hurts. You know they all say that pain fades with age, but it has been three weeks, four days, and six hours, and I am still helplessly in love with him.” She said, staring down at her faded converses. “It’s like an ache in my chest, like a small hairline crack that grows bigger every time I hear his name. He tried to call me at first, to say the words that won’t have meaning, like ‘I’m sorry’ can fix everything. He doesn’t try anymore.” Her smile is bittersweet. “And the saddest part is that I actually started to believe in happily ever afters again.” This seemed to be too much, and tears ran down her face as she whispered, “And I thought he was mine.”