“You’ll find somebody”

“You’ll find someone” I say to myself, as I squeezed the pudge on each side of my stomach. I examine every inch of my body in the mirror, wondering if it’s the love handles on my hips or my not-so-white smile or maybe even my boring brown eyes that make me not appealing. “You’ll find somebody” I repeat, looking myself dead in the eyes, searching for confidence but only finding fear and self-pity. They keep telling me that I will find somebody, it happens to everyone eventually. But I don’t want eventually, I want right here and right now. I want something, anything, and all I ever get is nothing. I believe that people take getting their heart broken for granted. I’ll gladly get my heart broken if it means that for once in my life, I feel anything other than nothing. I watch my best friend, who is the most beautiful person I have ever known, doubt herself and it makes me hate myself even more. If she is ten times prettier than me and she is lonely, what will ever happen to me? I look at her and I look at myself and we are so sad. Why do we base our happiness on the idea that a guy will look at us and call is beautiful? We both acknowledge that we are wrong to do so, yet we still place our happiness and our confidence in the idea that we are not appealing. If I can look at myself and say “Kacie, you are beautiful, don’t worry about not having a boyfriend. You don’t need that.” If I can look at myself and say that, why the fuck don’t I believe it? What is so wrong with this world that I can base my value off of how many boys I have (or haven’t) kissed. Something is wrong with this picture. If I can sit here and write an entire story on why this is wrong, yet never change, something is wrong. This comes from the genuine, human emotion of being wanted. I want to be wanted. Everyone wants to be wanted. Sometimes, you don’t feel wanted. Even if I have a loving family, an amazing best friend, and a million other friends who would be heartbroken if I were to pass, I still hate myself because I don’t have a man to tell me I am beautiful. I have been wanted my entire life, just not by the right person. What is wrong with me that all of this happiness is cancelled out the absence of a guy that doesn’t even exist yet. You’ll find someone, they tell me. But shouldn’t they tell me that I should find myself first?

Child of the Sky


The clouds moved in suddenly, strangely, and they sat there, suspended by strings. Oh how I wanted to climb a ladder up high and sit myself upon one of them and forget everything that ever happened. Maybe, just maybe, my body could be taken in by the clouds and I could sink deep down into the sky where no one would ever think to look for me. I would make friends with the stars that come out at night because I know they’re already dead, they won’t bother me. I’d use the crescent moon as my bed and I would sleep away the rest of my years quietly and contently. I would be at peace, as a child of the sky, and I would never again set foot on ground.

The Room, The Field, And Myself

I found sitting myself in a really dark place–like a dimly lit room. An overhead light flickered on and off, and in the short seconds of light, I caught a glimpse of myself, my reflection. I didn’t like what I saw, what was staring back at me. A face pale like a white crayon, like I had never had the rays of the sun dance upon the edges of my skin, eyes so worn, so tired, so…defeated. I crawled my way to the nearest wall. My fingers grazed the freezing cold tile as I climbed my way to a standing position. I stood leaning against the cold, mostly to stabilize myself, but also because the tile felt so smooth against my arms.

How did I get here in this room? I can’t seem to remember, it all hit me so fast. The light flickered on and off and I stood leaning against the smooth tile and thinking about where I was. This room was so small and dark. I let my fingers drag along the tile as I slowly walked around the room. At last the smooth, cold wall turned to even more cold metal as I found myself holding into a handle. Suddenly the light flickered once more and through the door I went, and then I was falling and falling. After that, everything went black.

When I awoke, I once again found myself in the fetal position on the ground. This time I was warm. I felt something tickle my foot and it jolted me awake. I open my eyes to discover that I am lying in a field filled with pink and white flowers that I could never identify. They were lovely and they seemed to embrace the cool breeze moving through their petals. I stand here amidst all this beauty and I feel okay for the first time. I am calm. I am happy.

Suddenly, though, the sky seemed to flicker just like that temperamental light in that cold tile room. I think to myself that it’s just my mind, it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. But then a loud, thunderous noise bellows throughout the field, sending a murder of large, black crows into my direction. The beautiful, blue sky instantly filled itself with clouds like dark, black smoke in a small confined space. A strong wind forces it’s way against the flowers and as each flower is touched, it wilts, turning the most awful shade of gray I had ever seen. The entire field went dead and I stand in the center trying to take in what happened. Everything was fine just a minute ago. The sky flickers and again my vision turns black and I wake up and I am back in that cold, the room, laying on my side. The door is there, within my view, and I lay there, staring.


I was empty and you filled me, and I thought it was good like flowers growing in the cracks, but I was wrong; you were a tree that took root in the middle of my sidewalk and broke the cement apart and left me crumbling.