a list that is sort of a poem and only makes sense to me and that's okay

climb roofs whisper in ears get uncomfortably close scream out a window hike in the night paint the details i know of you envelop don't wear clothing don't wash my hair climb a tree you think you can't meet somewhere at an odd hour slip in foggy in the morning sleep with the cold wind on your face in the warmest sleeping bag remember the smell of typewriter ink and hardwood floor kiss my nose don't go stay and build a fort like little kids stay until that world collapses rearrange say my name in my ear and in the air look at you and we both start running

the best solution is the one i always avoid:

 opening up and saying what i mean. 

i am happy i opted for eye to eye tonight.

I LOVE ADELE WITH MY WHOLE HEART.

HEY KIAGEN

it'd be cool if you'd stop idealizing the hell outta things.

regards,
your subconscious

p.s. only sentimentalists can repeat an emotion

puddle jumping through my journal entries from three months ago. i do not remember what it felt like. a hollow sort of love that never felt hollow until after: ''everything you do is beautiful.'' sunny autumn bike rides and sunday afternoons and radiohead. treeleaf eyes. hand in sweaty hand with all the manipulation and the putting me at his disposal and loving his weed and his band and his cat more. and all the other terrible things. what strikes me the most is that in nearly 6 months i only ever took one photograph of him, and you can't see his face.

he gave me context. i am free.

things of note

-if you use something called 'nivea cool' in an unfamiliar shower, you end up smelling like a man
-i should give up on fast food, since the best i can do is french fries
-i had a dream that included a storm, stealing a longboard,the wind blown hair of a former lover and my grandmother
-i have an impulse to hike a barren hill and scream, with a familiar + cold hand in mine
-i need to take up meditating again
-i am drowning in vapo rub and 90's movies
-graduating early will be most satisfying when i do not have to wake up at 6 on monday
-when i listen to sigur ros, i remember that music in a madeup language speaks more
  and is likely to make me cry

right this second

http://www.playlist.com/playlist/21397773835

these are default songs, a lot of which are old and you loved them too.

i wish that you were here with me to pass the dull weekend

liberation

i'd like to say i'll miss the fluorescent lighting and immature antics of that all too familiar building.but alas. that would be an atrocious lie. i spent my last minutes of high school standing in the most painfully awkward circle of people that i could not get away from, which included a certain psychotic ex who i can hardly look at.
definitely went out with a whimper, and not a bang.
i'd like to say i'll look back fondly and miss the good ol' times. trouble is i spent most of high school avoiding people, not going to dances, doing endless busy work and dreaming about college. although, i will say that Salt Lake School for the Performing Arts made me expand as a person, and the one semester i spent there was monumental. theatre often gets misinterpreted as bad musicals and million dollar movies. when actually, it is an art. in which the idea is to represent humanity in a truthful way.  and as far as that goes, i both witnessed and participated in some scary and beautiful representing. theatre taught me to look both behind and ahead without judgement. to leave something up to the moment. that everything is inside of me.
my internship starts soon. i will be working soon. i will be making friends with people who are not in high school soon.
i worked hard for this day, and i am ohso glad it has arrived.

my life is mine, and that is liberating.

''remember how beautiul you are. and the love you have, filling every inch of you.''

i have the best best friend ever. 

march

i miss times like this. highest rung, ghost waltzing, sweaters. everything seemed like a classic black and white in the making.  a bit of naivety.

sick,

where you crumple yourself under blankets and sleep sweaty sick sleep. and wait until someone takes pity enough to make you canned soup. the only importances are your book, cat, and vapo rub. it crosses your mind that tomorrow you will have to peel yourself from a day of nothing, and halfheartedly attempt a day of something.  the thought troubles you enough to induce another sleep.

detached nostalgia

unnamed emotion
slips: over my head
like tepid bathwater
in a clawfoot tub

coil into dimly lit
memories;vintage motifs
where the glamour
is all but tarnished

lips once stained smoothred
are cracked;withered
not fit for a kiss nor a
memoir of the evening

submerged beneath heavylight
weight of regrets?no.
lack of: a detached nostalgia
featuring no judgement, only

the autumn wisps of when you felt anything at all.

-kiagen mcginnis

since feeling is first

since feeling is first

who pays any attention

to the syntax of things

will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool

while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,

and kisses are a far better fate

than wisdom

lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry

--the best gesture of my brain is less than 

your eyelids flutters' which says,

we are for eachother; then

laugh, leaning back in my arms

for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

-e.e. cummings

if it takes shit to make bliss then i feel pretty blissfully

everything at my house falls apart
-no hot water
-flooded basement
-no sink
-no legal vehicles
-my father about to leave the country

and then
-i drop my brand new phone in the toilet and fail to revive it
-i have to go on the most awkward date of all time
-i can't finish my very last online class to graduate because the stupid website crashes
-my wisdom teeth decide to grow in
-i am faced with two options i should say no to, but most likely the adventurous, reckless part of me will say yes
-everybody left and i have no desire to make social efforts
AND i have that sick where your bones and brain feel like pudding and you feel alternately like you need to strip naked due to menopause-esque hot flashes and put on every sweater you own because you will never be warm again. jeezus.

rainy winters night

drops
on snow
water
on frozen
water
trickling trails
of dirty
meltings
like tears
from a
darkened
soul
-kiagen mcginnis

today is for

hot shower read for hours write letters oil pastels a bit of rain Iron & Wine reliving my childhood piano playing not wanting to go home

this is the part of me that writes things down obsessively

ink your soul on the page

MY LOVE IS TOO BIG FOR YOU, MY LOVE i find you stunning but you are running me down.

currently:

-i am not wearing pants
-i am on my 6th cup of tea
-i am digging myself into a hole of procrastination
-i am romanticizing about new york
-i would rather eat a sock than write another essay
-i am graduating on friday
-if i write those essays

welcome to the sleepless nights of an open loner and avid list writer.