Missing Paris

Dear Paris, I still think about you sometimes.

I think about all the good times, all the awkward times, all the times I was late to meet you. I still think about how good you were for me and how I might not have been too good to you. I know I left a while ago and I'm sorry I still haven't said goodbye I just can't find the words. But know I do miss you and this is not my final goodbye

III VI XVI

   my life has been different lately.
i feel different and so does everything else.
the way i see things,
the way you talk to us,
all the familiar faces,
it all just seems different these past couple months.
and
i still dont know if different is good
when youre little they tell you it is 
but who are they and what the hell do they know about being different.
this is my second to last blog post probably ever
and im wasting it on something ive already written about.
its almost time for me to go and im terrified i wont even be able to leave.
my life has been different lately 
and i think its ruining me.

Mash Game

Love stuff and maybe hate stuff too

I don't miss you. 

I mean I do but not in that way. 

Yes I think about you every now and then, how you used to be mine and I yours

But what I really think about is having you.

Having someone there 

Having someone to wake up to and fall asleep to.

Having that forever lasting happy feeling just from looking at another person. 

I miss having that. 

But not necessarily with you

Yes you made me happy 

But I can see now it wasn't as good of a happy as it could have been 

You're a lot happier and I want to get to that point too 

I miss having someone 

Anyone

Having the feeling that everything is going to be alright 

The feeling that you'll always be there when I need you, which lets be honest is always I'm a helpless mess. 

I miss having the random meaningless conversations awaiting to be forgotten 

I miss the places I can no longer go without thinking of you 

I don't miss your laugh or your eyes cause they made me cry

I don't miss the nights that followed it all. 

I don't miss the thoughts that ran through my mind 

Over and over 

And over 

And over. 

The thing that scares me is how real it all felt and how it's completely different now. 

I thought I meant what I said but that was all bullshit. 

Bullshit. 

Bullshit. 

Bullshit!!

But it scares me cause how am I supposed to know when it's real. 

Is it ever real?

I miss the memories and the ideas 

The x's and o's

I miss so much and still so little. 

I miss the cute little gifts 

The notes and texts. 

I miss the reminder that everything will be okay. 

I miss the lazy days together 

And all the giggles, tears, and z's in between. 

I miss that. 

Not you. 

Sofar Sounds

I couldn't pick one. Sorry Nelson

One more time

This is my long term project, my second wife's diary, my vol.II, and my way to keep busy. Its hard for me to start over my journal. Last semester I put a lot of work into my journal because I had no other homework in any class and idk if it was all for the better, but it meant a lot to me and this time I feel like Ive set my bar too high, I'm leaving so I probably won't finish it, and I'm not going to write or create like an "advanced" student, which is why I hate art and hate that people know I do art stuff, because then they expect me to do things when really I can't. I want to try and put more words than art crap in it this time around but I'm afraid I'm off to a bad start and I can speak easier through my "art". So here we go again.

 CWI

CWII

I never said goodbye

I procrastinated saying goodbye to Paris last semester to the point where I never even got the chance to because I'm already back. Ive never been good at goodbye's or hello's as cliche as it sounds. so here's me, Callen Clarissa Davis, two days short of 18 years and 31 days of high school left, yet not a single clue who I am, other than a procrastinator, or where I am going. No I'm not good at writing poetry or sharing in front of people and I am even worse at blogging, yet I'm here back in Paris for round two, so sorry if that pisses you off cause your best friend didn't make it in the class and they're an "amazing" writer, but you're stuck with me for 16 more class periods, 21.37 more hours, 1,282 more minutes, 7 more blog posts, and maybe if I get the courage to you'll have to sit through a journal jam or two and listen to my words just for a couple of minutes. This is my goodbye disguised as a hello