Friday, November 25, 2011

my romance with impatience



I'm going to be a good public speaker when I'm dead. I'll go skydiving when I'm dead. Yeah? And I'm going to eat sushi all the time when I'm dead. Sushi for breakfast. Sushi for dessert. And no California Rolls either, do you hear me? When I'm dead, I'm going to wake up before 2:14 in the afternoon, I swear. And I'm going to answer the phone, answer your texts, answer when you call up the stairs for me, "Avery? Avery?", but only once I'm dead. I'll do my homework when I'm dead. I'll wear gold chains, platinum bootstraps, diamond band-aids on my broken fingers, when I am dead. But not a second sooner. I'll write you a check for my overdue tough love when I'm dead. I'm going to kiss you on both cheeks and wave goodbye when I'm dead, I'm going to take up chess, I'm going to bleed it out, I'm going to give my condolences to Impatience and Luck when I'm dead. I'll stitch up my old wounds when I'm dead.

But not until I'm dead. 

Don't change me, don't color me in with a black magic marker and call me beautiful. Don't wake me up early. I'm ready to sleep. I'm alive so I'm going to run myself ragged. I'm going to stand on my tiptoes until I can take the moon and crumble it in my hands. I'm so sick of medicine. I'm so sick of standing on each others' shoulders to try to reach the top shelf. 

I want to write something that's going to change your life. I want you to Like it on Facebook, you know?  But maybe once I'm dead I'll finally look up a word in the dictionary that's long enough to say everything that I mean.When I'm dead I'll finally be able to brush the dust off my face and work up an appetite. I've got this big life and I don't have time to spell the words for you that I use and you don't understand. You want to waste your life? Fine. Don't change me, though. Don't pickpocket me of my aggression and my cynicism, don't strip me of my diseases. You want glory? Fine. You want romance? Fine. 

I'll show you just how glorious, I'll show you just how "romantic" I can be when I'm dead.






If looks could kill.
-Avery Jalaine
  

Monday, November 21, 2011

what i meant to say was "shut up"


I'm very sick of words lately. And all boys. And I probably have appendicitis.

How very unlike me.







Boo.
-Avery Jalaine

Sunday, November 13, 2011



If I was God, I'd write a new blog post everyday.

But alas, I'm only human, and a teenager in high school at that.


I have a novel to write. Don't bother me for 17 more days.





I know, I know.
-Avery Jalaine



Tuesday, November 1, 2011

what it's like to be invincible





You are seventeen-years-old and you are invincible. 

Invincibility has made you reckless. That's why fire doesn't scare you. That's why you don't remember to turn off the lights or dot your i's. That's why you fall without fear, and the end of the world can't come soon enough. Your bones will never break, and neither will your heart. You are invincible and you take a bullet to the head like a kiss there, right there, right on the temple and straight out the other side. Your blood is just sugar water, you can fly if you want to. You laugh too much. And since you never have to stop running, why stay here?

You're young. And your voice sounds better loud. You don't want to grow up, so you don't have to, at least not today. Death is funny because it's so simple. If you're about to starve to death: don't. If you're about to jump: don't.

You wear your invincibility like a pair of wings, or a strike-anywhere match. And when you fly, your long hair will not get caught in the airplane's engine. And when you sing, the whole world will fall at your feet. 

You get away with everything. You're immortal. You're a young god, and glorious and terrible as a new sun, with more gravity and righteous fire than anything you could have made up on your own. You're timeless, so you have all the time in the world. And you waste your time. You waste your time gracefully, because time is something for the weak of heart. Even the shape of you is apocalyptic.

Open your veins and your wings and your mind, you can live forever. You can live forever.





Society wanted me young: here I am.
-Avery Jalaine