The Thief of Time

Scattered things along the table:

An old withered globe of lands long forgotten.  

Scattered sheets of instructive paper.

A bag of half eaten blueberries that were always her favorite.

Pencils dropped and itching for a good draw or long write.

The lamp is burning, but does so happily. 

A crumbled paper that whispers "ALL ALONE IN THIS"

A firm twisted holiday ribbon cries itself to sleep, for the lack thereof of attention.

Two old cards, blank and forgotten. 

The phone is flipped over, though she knows she has a message waiting for her on the other side.

She wonders what they are for, the letters I mean.

The keys are hard to type with, though they make her happy. 

The way they "click click" and "stick" bring her joy.

Her eyes wander about the room in search for something to write about. 

The window is always  a good place to start. 

Then again, so is the slightly ajar closet that screeches for attention.

The door is also open, though it strikes no interest in her. 

Small voices travel through the room in a gentle hum. 

Sometimes, she silently cries, but always finds her comfort in this room.

A precious movie ticket sleeps in her pocket.

Her leg is always falling asleep.

And now she has to leave.

A stack of books threaten to tempt her, to consume her and to lull her to sleep in a gentle rush. 

She comes back. 

The dog's asleep, as she wishes she someday could be.

The lights are hushed.

The house is still.

She caught the bright stars tonight, and wished that she could see them.

This love affair between them was never going to last.

But she wished it could.

The music slumbers 'til the sunrise.

She cries herself to sleep.

The bed is stuffy, choking her in mid-dream.

The dream catcher has failed her as of late and she desperately wishes it wouldn't.

She kicks, claws and wills herself to cry.

The tears never come.

The alarm clock stays silent.

Her clouds are slipping now.

The books upon her self are dusting, begging for release.

A long forgotten sketch book, some paints and old journal rest on top the basket.

She aches for solitude.

The woods are calling her, but not loud enough to tempt her.

The Autumn had deceived her.

She misses her old dreams.

To run. 

To climb.

To sing a dreadful song.

Her memories now are failing her, she rushes in the dark.

A man, her lover, waits for her.

She knows he isn't far.

The eyes. 

The lips.

Her very soul.

He wants to keep her close.

She cries again, and leaves him lost.

They quest their separate ways.

The swirling steam of on old rusty train brings hope and faith at last.

New life, more purpose is what calls her name again.

An old wooden desk, worn from ache and sorrow, remains her only friend.

The paper, the pen, the withered globe are always there to stay.

They greet with smiles, though they mean no harm.

Her eyes will wander once again.

The window is shut.

The curtains are drawn.

She's gone her separate way.

Another tear she wipes away.

Another friend she makes in words, for she knows they will never betray her.

Her dear sister laughs a sweet laugh from the corner.

She runs her fingers through her hair.

Two dolls, alone but not forgotten, sleep and slumber in utter bliss.

The lamp still burns, most happily.

The dust still dances on the keys, sticking to her words.

The books.

The clock.

Forgotten things.

She finds her way again.

(k.b.)

November 30th, 2013

Friday Night at 10:40PM

On a night full of bright stars she wished 

she could watch. 

  

White Demon

November 23, 2013

10:09PM

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

His cold amber eyes haunted every dream I ever had now and threatened to consume my soul entirely.

I imagined a cold, gripping hand collapsed around my heart and felt its pressure increasing the more I thought of him and his lying eyes I once learned to trust.

But I couldn’t help it.

He made me love him.

Its taken me a lifetime to realize I truly have no say in what my heart wants to feel and what it wishes to do.

I am merely a body for a soul.

A burden for the beast.

A hunt in the kill of my entire being.

It pays a debt to live inside me though, with breaths and lungs and blood flowing through my stretching veins.

But I paid a debt in return to it as well; I gave it my whole soul and every feeling I ever had before I even learned what love was.

It tricked me.

It always pulled the rug before my feet could even tap its fragile patterns.

Would I ever find peace?

Is there no way to love without a consuming debt that feeds the pain but starves the heart?

An ocean of tears and I know it isn’t so.

True love has never existed in my life, and never will unless I learn to let it go.

Like a drifting balloon against a concrete sky, I will prevail.

Afterall, I am the master of my fate.

I am the creator of my own catastrophe.

I am a sinking ship that has no odds of surviving without the help of the White Demon, of which we all fall in love with.

His captivating hands will leave me breathless and eventually salvage my dying soul.

Someday he will set me free.

Someday I will trade my heart for him and then be happy.

Someday,

White Demon.

Someday White Demon.

(k.b.)

Carpe Diem "Sieze The DAY!"

Two words: Carpe Diem.
What do they mean?
"Sieze the day."
What does that mean?
Well, I don't know. I simply know what it means to me.
Carpe Diem is a motto of freedom, but it is one that you must learn for yourself.
Like 'Todd' we must all learn to find our voice. For some, we are like 'Neil" and we already have our voice. But for me, I am much like a Todd. Why?
Because I am afraid. I fear that which I do not know. I fear defeat. And I fear to fail.
Someone once taught me that in order to truly succeed in life, you must first fail.
Here's what I've found out about that philosophy: Two things:
1. If you are to first fail in order to then succeed, then you must first attain bravery.
2. After you have attained bravery, you must then learn to find yourself.
So really, if you think about it, the motto isn't to first fail then success will follow. NO! The motto is actually no motto at all, but a choice. FIRST you must choose courage. Ridiculous, insane and positively fatuous courage that is humiliating, but also advantageous. Then, once you find your courage, you realize you cannot find yourself next because once you found your courage, you already found yourself.
SIMPLIFY:
There is no motto. Failure does not bring success. Courage within yourself is yourself.
Carpe Diem.
Sieze the day!
What does that even mean now?
Well, I'll tell you it means courage is what reveals yourself and yourself is whoever you want it to be.
Be fatuous.
Be ridiculous.
Be sophisticated.
Be spontaneous.
Be absolutely, unreservedly, and utterly courageous.
Remember: Your courage is yourself.
Carpe Diem.
Sieze the day.
You may spend a million lifetimes telling yourself you'll "seize the day" another day.
Seizing the day happens this day.
You sieze the day now, or spend a lifetime wondering how it would have been if only you did.
CARPE DIEM.
Seize The Day.
(And that day is today!!)

(k.b.)

2:44AM
November 23, 2013
SAT (FRI)

The Lion and the Roar

October 31, 2013

5:58PM

Thursday

I felt him coming. 

His rhythmic breathing echoed in my head. 

I tried to call out--but my voice was drifting away. 

"Stay back!" I tried to say, but it never came out. 

I felt so helpless and pathetic.

The moment of my deepest fear was approaching and there was nothing I could do about it.

Not one thing. 

And then, suddenly he was already here--right in-front of my shaking eyes. 

His golden sunset eyes bore into mine, devouring every inch of me. 

The cold breaths from a long run were slapping against my cheeks and nose, but I paid no mind to it. 

The only thing soaring through my head right now were questions and escape routes. 

Through my flowing blood I felt the weight of fear pumping through it, until the coldness overbore me. 

After an endless moment of heavy breathing, it finally ceased to a quiet, slumberous purr. 

I was surprise to find I wasn't shaking anymore, but peacefully sat their in calm anticipation for what this beast was planning to do with me. 

But this beast gave no room for ferreting his deep and cavernous plans. 

This beast could very well kill me on the very grave of my fading redemption. 

He could slaughter all my memories; devour every dream I ever had; and pilfer anything else that was vulnerable within me. 

But he didn't. 

He merely stared into my eyes and let his breaths rise and fall against mine. 

Then it was my turn to scrutinize his face--from his wispy whiskers tickling the pillows of my cheeks, to his thick, cascading main falling in golden-yellow tufts. 

It wasn't then that I felt brave--not just yet. 

No, the emotions coursing through my veins were anything but brave right now.

But then he did something that made me find my courage. 
He looked me in the eyes and then--He roared. 

And without warning too. 

And as his thunderous roar reached the limit of the sky, I roared too. 

I roared until I felt braver than this beast--this monster. 

And this monster I speak of, was not he golden Lion roaring to my right. 

No. 

This monster was the one inside of me, the one that died the moment I bellowed my roar louder than that Lion.

And louder than my fear. 

(k.b)

"Nostalgia"

But in the middle of my happiness i realized

that all those nostalgic moments from my past were no longer there

that the little girl who once loved to dream 

and dance 

and release her wild imagination

no longer existed.

The little girl who spent too much time in the sun

The little girl who chased dragons

and hunted fairies

and the little girl who fiercly imagined things she knew in her heart to be real

was no longer real.

No longer alive.

And there was nothing i could do to change that

no matter how much i wanted to

But deeply inserted within my aching heart

there lied a wish.

A small, but passionate wish

that i could be that little girl again.

I wished so desperately

so fiercely

that my life could somehow go back to a life

where magic and remarkable adventures filled the brief hours of the sun

That i could waste away the day

pretending to fly

and running fast enough to make my

tiny heart pound against my chest

all because i wanted to

I wished for a place

and time that  no longer belonged to me

But at a moment in my deep thinking

my wishing

turned to dreaming

Dreams that could cloud my past

and change my future 

 and come

and never leave 

And  it was then 

i knew that dreams

weren't always out of reach

At-least

not anymore.

(k.b)

Written:

October 13, 2013

 One rainy 

Sunday Afternoon

Finished:

2:54PM

A "Curiouser and Curiouser" Letter

Recently I wrote a letter to my sister Sarah (who is serving an LDS mission) that turned out to be SEVEN PAGES LONG. Yeah...talk about a rather long and endless letter, but I must admit it contained something of great importance to me. Within the swirly, untidy sprawls of my pencil marks against the simply lined letter was a list. A list of myself.  Now I know what you are thinking: "Why in the world would a list about yourself have any significance what so ever?" But to put you at ease, the list had nothing really to do with informing my sister about myself, but had everything to do with proving a solid point to myself-- the point being to teach myself to love every detail about myself no matter how hard it may be.

You see I came across a passage online with an unknown author that really struck a cord in me. For days its words swirled inside my head and tormented me to confusion. It formed a question inside my head that I either refused to answer-- or was too frightened to. The question that plagued my mind was, in its simplest form: "Who am I really?"
It may sound cliché but the intensity of that question beat into my soul over and over and over agian. And the more I thought about it, the less I could answer it. Who was I, really? Surely I knew! But the more I asked the less I knew!

Upon one night when I no longer could avoid this haunting question I found myself slumped in front of my dusty mirror replaying the mysterious words from that online passage:

"who are you 

really?

you are not a  name

or a height, or weight

or a gender

you are not where you 

are from

you are your favorite books

and the songs stuck in your head

you are your thoughts

and what you eat for breakfast

on saturday mornings

you are a thousand things

but everyone chooses 

to see the million things

you are not

you are not

where you are from

you are

 where you are going

and i'd  like

to go there

 too.

(m.k)"

Probably not what you expected, huh? Yet there they were screaming in my head clear as day but as unnerving as the night. Tears streamed down my face until these words took full affect upon my heart and finally took hold of my brain. I could no longer ignore that treacherous question that faced me now of who I truly was.  It was then and only then that I had to make a decision of who I was and what I wanted to be. 

Suddenly it was in those solemn tears that I made a deep, indestructible promise--a vow if you will--that I would put forth every effort to become the person I and God wanted to be. I would spend every day learning to admire the faults, quirks, talents, pet-peeves, and details that made me, well, me! 

And so the first thing I could think to do was write a list; and a list i wrote from A-Z of all the smallest insignificant details about myself (well no longer insignificant to me). And the list was filled and made and it only awaitied to be sent, read, and dwelled. 

Read it if you will, but know that this is a historic moment for me! It may be hard to believe at times, but it is one of the hardest things for me to talk about myself without guilt nagging at the back of my head. I feel that if I should speak, it should only be directed to others. Now, I'm no where near perfect in accomplishing that goal, but I don't care about that as much anymore. My goal has grown to greater heights which I have every intention of reaching! And so read this list with great care and think only of good intentions:

A. I am an absolute, beyond a doubt Nature lover. Observing nature is where I find my solitude. 

B. My heart blissfully lies with the stars. (I'll never stop looking for that shooting star.)

C.  I have cute little dimples I always forget I have. :) (which, by the way, I am always reminded is something others are jealous of but I simply always forget I have them!)

D. You can only see the little scar on my forehead--right between the eyes--when I am angry or upset.

E. Reading and drawing are other places of solitude for me and bring spirit, passion and adventure into my soul.

F. My favorite breakfast cereal is Honey Nut Cherrios, but if I couldn't have those then I would most definitely choose waffles over anything!

G. Autumn is the most beautiful, mysterious, gentle, graceful and magical time of the year for me. (It's also my very favorites season!)

H. I'll always prefer dogs to cats no matter how cute they both are!

I. I have a strange bump on my right hand, ring finger from endless drawing and writing. (I guess I just hold my pencil really oddly...?) Which is another thing I always forget about. 

J. As much as I hate to admit it, Pinterest is one of my many weaknesses, along with: baggy beanies with pom-poms, romantic novels and movies, envelopes, friendly dogs, a good book to get lost in, pencil and paper, and toasty food. (especially pumpkin bread!)

K. "K" is for "Kiersten" which is my name and to be undeniably honest--I love the sound of my name, "Kiersten Pauline Benson".
L. I am "Philvophile", which means I am an absolute lover of rain and rainy days. As a matter of fact, I prefer rainy days to sunny days no matter what.
M. "M" is for "mail" and I love receiving and sending mail. I often wish I lived in an older time period where the only way of communicating was through letters and airmail. I mean, who doesn't feel overly special when they receive a letter? (I know I always do!)
N. I will always and eternally prefer a real book to a digital one. Always! Why? Well, purely because you can never replace nor receive the memory refreshing smell of a new and awaited book, or even an old one. You could never get that from a digital book. The next reason is simply, you cannot press vibrant flowers or leaves against the digital pages of an electronic book. Another reason to my preference is you can never replace the tear stains, finger prints, and accidental marks from dripping drinks and crumbling food you try to eat while reading at the same time. My last reasons are simply this: you can only experience turning the very last page to a long and adventurous story, with a real book; and a giant library stuffed with books will always be more impressive than a digital book. Always.
O. "O" is for "optimistic" which is what I am!
P. My ever growing desire to travel the world will never end and seems to me will only continue to emerge the longer I await a journey somewhere I've never been. What can I say? My heart is made with beating wings and a printed map right on top.
Q. "Q" is for "Question! Question! Question!" I am a wanderer and a curious mess (without even the tiniest chance of remedy for that.) My eyes were made for wondering, while my feet were made for wandering. 

R. "R" is not for "Yamel," but "Rachel" who made it possible for me to proudly say, "Hi! I am  Kiersten and I am a twin!"
S. I am a writer. It is what it is. But my mother once told me something about writing that has never left my heart. She said: "If you are going to be a writer, then you must know many, many words." And so, I strive to learn and I love learning new words everyday.
T. I do have faults like everybody else in this world, but I try to never focus on them. My faults have nothing to do with who I am or how I look, but rather what I do. For example:
-- I constantly pick my mascara off all the time! (And it drives my mom absolutely crazy, but I do it anyway!)

--I watch movies all-the-time. (probably WAY too much!) But what can I do? How do you fix a *wink wink* "problem" you don't mind having? That you in-fact, enjoy VERY much? Exactly. (You don't.)
--Most of my room is covered in pictures, piles and piles of books, notebooks, sketchpads, quotes, and random items scattered every-which-way! (Such as: seashells along my window seal, pebbles, dead flowers, and a secret letter box no one knows about.)
--I get nervous a lot. And more likely than not, it is for the dumbest reasons.
U. I try everyday to focus on others and not myself.
V. I am a hopeless romantic! My poor husband will have to put up with me constantly comparing him to "Mr. Darcy" and many other insanely attractive men only found in romance novels!
W. My favorite words off the top of my head are: captivating, escapade, empathetic, fetish, crisp, cozy, prepossessing, ravishing, and crunchy.
X. My family is my life and also my best friend list. Every last one of them will always come first in my life and I value their approval in all I do. They are my number one source of pure joy and laughter. <3
Z. I hate talking about myself, but I am learning not to. Someday someone will love every detail about me and it would probably help if I did too. And someday, I know I will.

I know that list came across very long, but letter "Z" should pretty much sum up why I made this blasted list in the first place! I know from other's perspective this list may seem trivial, but to me it means everything. It proves to me as well as anyone who is willing to read this, that I am stretching outside my boundaries and comfort-zone in order to become the person I want to be. So, all thanks to you for helping me on my way to bigger and better places.  I owe you a lot.

Originally Written: 

September 29,

2013

12:06 PM

One Sunday

Afternoon 

Reasons to Be Happy: #2

Stumbled upon this today :)

Makes me think twice about life and reminds me that I can be more happier and in an easier way!

Introducing- Reasons to Be Happy: #1

I have been having trouble with being myself lately. Being myself, as in being happy with who I am and not focusing on my own problems, but trying to help others solve their own.  I constantly find myself beating myself down in almost substantially cruel ways, but then I tell myself the things that make me shine and special, but it doesn't seem to want to stick. Thinking deeply seems to be the only source of refuge for me. Becoming lost and sinking blissfully inside my endless thoughts cleanses my fears and sorrows if only for  moment, but it seems to work for me. Sometimes when the world just needs a little shove outside my head, I like to float around in there long enough for me to forget my sadness, and remember old memories that make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. (Is that even possible? To feel so much joy and happiness that it makes you sad?) Well whatever it is I seem to like it.  Like it alot.  And I  also like to create new and exciting places, people, and events. I dream of things I've never had but I pray someday I will.
What things you ask? Well, my curious friends, things that make me happy. And let's be honest here,  who doesn't want to be happy? Here are just a few (or more) things that make me truly happy (and not the short term pleasure, but the real deal, ever lasting, life changing happy.) So kick back! Explore my words and open your mind! Happiness is up to you! :)
 Enjoy my friends:

• Shivering Autumn- crisp. shuddering leaves. pumpkins. beanies. skinny jeans. boots. scarves. sweet spices. crunchy leaves. the colors: orange, red, brown and yellow fitting perfectly together. brisk air. bare naked trees. dying grass. growing excitement. halloween just around the corner.  pies. chili. steaming cups of cocoa. smooth soup. annual hoe-downs. hay bales. scarecrows. hanging cobwebs. laughter. smiles.  blankets. windy days that no one minds. changing leaves. corn mazes. shivers. fires. fluffy mittens. bobbing for apples. buckets and buckets of candy. dusty decorations. scarlet cheeks. fading tans. leather gloves. cozy clothes. dried leaves along the street. rolling oranges. endless memories. empty park benches. crashing cold oceans. lonely light houses. stretching bridges. unbearable excitement. white picket fences dotted with leaves. pumpkin carving. shaking tree-lined streets. harvesting food. roasting pumpkin seeds. yellow corn shucks. black crows. snickering witches. seasonal gift shops. jack-o-lanterns. blushing candles. damp air. quiet moments. jumping into littered piles of leaves. knitted presents. happy greetings. rosy smiles. sticky wet leaves. scented pine cones. gentle music. trotting deer. homely corn bread bathed in taco soup. bedtime stories. spooky songs. steaming pumpkin bread. apple cider sliding down your throat. hugging quivering bodies. holding cold hands. the never ending hunger for autumn.

*Hope YOU enjoyed this entry today! And expect more to come :)

Originally Written:

September 5, 2013

8:15PM

It Never Can

August 16. 2013

Friday

6:12PM

Sometimes i feel sad.
Doesn't everyone?
But sometimes, on usual occasions, i feel like im the only one who feels this way.
Feeling like the people i know just don't care enough for me and my problems are just too big
and too many.
 And so i blame the world for not caring enough.
And i blame the world for my heart aching problems too.
When deep down, i know it's not the world's fault.
But my own.
Sometimes when im all alone in my room and my heart aches so badly that i don't feel like talking to a single soul, i conclude that no one will ever understand what it is like to be me or understand how i feel.
And you want to know a deep secret?
Sometimes i feel like im right.

But, sometimes I have good  days too.
Days where the sun seems to laugh along with me and the stars aren't my only friends in the world.
Days where every thing, sound, smell, and even taste seems perfectly amazing.
From the sun to the moonrise, everything is just too beautiful it's almost impossible to soak it all in.
And despite all the so called "problems" washed up from the day before, they cease to exist on days like this.
They run away from fear of happiness and never look back.

Until your good day is gone.

And the world is your enemy again, no longer your friend.

And then your heart yearns desperately, yet again, for that good day to return.
It yearns for it, like one yearns for a heart warming memory, distant, but still in reach, to return.

It longs for your problems to crash back into the ocean, but never wash back to the shore.

It aches for the sun to dance in the dusty light of an empty room, or chase the swishing clouds in the baby sky.

And then you ask yourself and beg from any willing ears to listen, what on earth you can give or do to keep this addicting happiness in your heart and never let it out.
You ask if there is a real cage to trap this yellow day within the lonely chambers of your blue heart.
And most would never know if there truly was.
Most would shake their head and leave you lost and desperate once again.

But then, at the end of all hope
At the bottom of the bottom
At the darkest part of the night
And in the emptiest of rooms

There is hope knocking on the door.

And you're too heart broken and scared to know if this hope is real or not.

But with no choice you open the door just a crack.
A crack, enough to shed some light in the darkness.
Enough to warm your skin and sooth playfully through to your heart.
Enough light, to make you crave for more.

So slowly, or for some desperately, you open the door all the way, one crack at a time until you no longer can.
And by that point your sunny day has now filled the room.
It once again plays through the empty room, dances through the dusty window, and bounces off every wall to echo its happiness through every crevasse of your no longer empty heart.
You're so warm
So protected
And so happy you feel like nothing in the world could possibly make you more joyful!

And in reality nothing can.

You found your happy day.

You lost your sorrowful one.

And never want it back again.

So you never look back, but you never regret that blasted sadness ever again.

All because you were brave enough to hold that trembling door handle and never let go until the door was never closed again.
All because you chose the light.
Never the darkness.

And you want to know a real secret?
That light is always there.
It will never leave you.

And never can.

"All I Want" Entree: Number Two

  June 26, 2013

9:00AM(ish)

All I want is a beautiful, vast garden. 

Even if I live in the city, roots will grow and life will flourish. I want  big, old trees full of memory and stories edged in every bark. Flowers will blossom in pinks, yellows, magentas, violets, blues, purples, and every color you can think of! An arch way will be dedicated to growing roses around its bending spine, allowing them to crawl all over its smooth, happy skin. I also want boxes and boxes stuffed with fresh, clean, and healthy growing vegetables side-kicked with luscious fruit trees standing guard, watching all growth as they quietly sleep.  Twinkling lights will scatter and dazzle through-out this growing haven. 

But I could never fully love this beautiful garden unless I knew I helped grow and watch over every single thing in it.

 

That is all want. A garden for me.