Penny For Your Thoughts

 I'm mad at you. Yes, you. You know who you are. I'm mad because you showed me everything that I could possibly ever want in a man and then you left. You had a good reason for leaving.  I can't deny that. I'm mad, though.  I'm left looking for someone exactly like you. We both know that there isn't anyone quite like you though,  is there? Yes, you. You know who you are. -Emma Lancaster

 So tell me, Why did I want to live in his world When mine was so much bigger? -Emma Lancaster

 “…don’t hold your breath…” But what if that breath Is the only oxygen That I have  Remaining? -Emma Lancaster 

I know this language is strong. My feelings are strong. Do not dare give me a lick of trouble for it. Fuck men.  Fuck men and their feeling of entitlement to My time My energy My thoughts My consent to conversation My emotions My patience. From the bottom of my heart: Fuck men. -Emma Lancaster 

 We were making gooey butter cookies for our second Valentine’s Day together.  We made gooey butter cookies for our first Valentine’s Day too. It was going to be our tradition.  We only ever got the two Valentine’s Days.  We were listening to the playlist of our songs when “Lift Yourself” by Kanye West came on. It was the song that made us friends when we were just 14, and even though it was a goofy song, our playlist was incomplete without it.  We danced and belted our way through it.  The next song that came on was “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colbie Calliat.  I always thought that song perfectly described who we were as a couple. We were best friends before anything else, and we were so in love.  We danced for a few seconds before I pushed him away, giggling about having cookie dough all over my hands.  I turned around.  When I turned back to face him, he was holding a ring out to me.  It was a thin silver band, twisted with one strand of solid metal and one strand of stones.  He had p

 I heard his voice and cut off what I was saying to someone else.  I whipped around.  “I did it.” His eyes went wide.  “You did it?” Tears formed in my eyes as I nodded and smiled.  “I got it.” He hugged me so hard that day. He said he was proud of me.  He was so proud. -Emma Lancaster

 There was that night in the coldest winter months where we were anything but cold.  We were in the kitchen together. That was his favorite place to be.  I had gotten a lot of Sour Patch Kids for Christmas that I could never eat alone, and I wasn’t sure what to do with them all.  Sour Patch cookies sound horrendous.  We settled on covering them in chocolate and playing a game where we bet on which color we got before biting into the candy.  It was goofy. They were disgusting.  We started baking cookies instead.  We worked together, laughing and listening to my “70s Bops” playlist. He didn’t know many songs, but that was okay. I was the one that was always singing.  While we waited for the cookies to bake, I asked him to dance with me.  He told me that he didn’t know how to dance, and I promised him it was easy.  I grabbed his hands and put them on my waist before wrapping my arms around his neck. “Midnight Train To Georgia” still makes me cry today.  We swayed in small circles in the w

 He picked me up in his car.  It was a black car, and he had a lego man keychain on his keys.  It wasn’t my first time in his front seat. He had driven me home before, just being nice after a cross-country meet.  He didn’t hand over the aux, but he already knew what I liked to listen to, so it wasn’t a problem. We listened to Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer. We walked into his house and I was surprised to see a party going on. It was Halloween, and both his parents were dressed like skeletons.  We put our shoes up, said hello to his dogs, and then entered the party room. His mom asked if we wanted any snacks, and I said no. I had eaten dinner before coming over.  We pushed our way through the tipsy adults to a door that led to his basement.  We had agreed beforehand that we were going to watch scary movies together for Halloween because neither of us had other plans and I wanted to meet his dogs.  We sat down on the couch, right next to each other but barely touching. We decided to w

 The written word is invaluable to those who cannot speak. -Emma Lancaster

 How do I even begin to describe the last year of my life? Should I tell you about the love? Or what about the pain? Or what if I sat down with you and told you everything? It started with a fight, a full ride, a flight. A trip to Neverland, a ballgown on prom night. A graduation cap thrown up in the air, a trip to Mississippi. I got sunburnt there. Then the fighting grew, not to mention COVID, too. One weekend of bliss  before heartbreak  upon heartbreak upon heartbreak. So I went on a trip to Chicago, Denver, Salt Lake City, Sacramento, San Fancisco, Albequerque, Oklahoma City. Once I moved away, I began to see the change. You see, this change was slow. This change came in the form Of a new group of people, a couple airplane boys, and decorating a dorm. This change came about by a history class, an old man in English,  and an emotional pouring out. This change was good and this change was for the better. How do I even begin to describe the last year of my life? Growth. -Emma Lancaste

Being intoxicated by a moment... Running down an uptown street while it rains. Looking at the stars with your best friend.  Watching lightning fill the sky. Sitting in the front seat of a truck, singing Johnny Cash. Forehead to forehead. Eye contact. A small smile. Intoxicated. -Emma Lancaster

No matter what he does, No matter what he tries to do, I look at him And he still isn’t you.  -Emma Lancaster

She gets lost in the past so as to avoid the pains of the present. -Emma Lancaster