I'm 18 years old and I'm sorry, I didn't have anywhere else to write this down.

It's 10:46 and I'm 18 years old.
My brother has a good job
and a wife
and a baby.
I'm 18 years old
and maybe it's the Arizona air
but I'm crying
because my brother has a good job
and a wife
and a baby.
Don't get me wrong, I like all three of them
but I also liked when my brother made pizza
and had a guitar
and brought his friends home.

I'm 18 years old
and I'm going to start playing the piano again.
And maybe it's the Arizona air
but the poetry is suddenly coming again.
Maybe I accidentally blocked it away
cause it's spilling out every pore
but I think that's okay.

I'm 18 years old
and I'm still crying
because my brother has a good job
and a wife
and a baby.











(Please don't get me wrong I really love my niece and my sister in law and this isn't part of the poem and I kinda feel new to this again,k? Not that anyone is going to see this because I'm 18 and don't go to high school anymore. Did I mention I'm 18 now? I think 16 was better on me.)

I haven't written in a really long time because I haven't felt much in a really long time. And I'm grateful and angry for that all at once.

I think I like Thursday nights because they make you think. They make you think about how your sister's last name was Dodge, and now it's Peacock, and about how much neater your handwriting is now that you're a school teacher.

I think that most the time God smiles. I say most the time because frowning isn't futile, and He knows that. I think that when He smiles, He's laughing at us. Not the mean kind of laughing, the kind that you do when you remember something particularly wonderful.

Like where you were when you first heard I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers, or whatever your equivalent is, because I think we all know what I'm talking about. If you don't have an equivalent, you can claim I Wanna Get Better because I've always been good at sharing. Except, not people. I'm really bad at sharing people, because when you walk into my life you automatically mean something, and I don't know if that's good or bad. For you, I mean. No, wait, I take that back. I think I really was talking about me.

Saying goodbye wasn't hard, because I couldn't understand how impossible life would be without you.

my rant on music/life in general

"You've probably never heard of them."
Okay, cool. Introduce me to them, then. What's wrong with us liking the same music? Why is one band or genre of music specifically yours and "Thank God I don't have to share it with the whole world because that'd be just..."?

I get it. You can really empathize with this song, and it feels like yours. It's a little alarming when you find out that other people feel it the same way you do, and you don't want them to. (I recently went through this feeling pattern with the song I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers. Then I came to this realization:) It's really stupid to get your self worth from how many "underground artists" you know. It's kinda ridiculous to be pretentious about your music taste. And, I really don't care if you "found them first". Do you realize that music is what these artists are trying to do for a living? Don't you want them to keep making good music? Don't you want them to get paid? Yes? Alright, then share their music. I'm sure they'd love that more than anything, honestly.

You know, it's okay to like mainstream music. There-I'm saying it. YOU CAN LIKE MAINSTREAM MUSIC AND STILL BE A HUMAN BEING. It's not like you're some kind of animal if you're shut up in your room listening to Katy Perry. You don't have to be ashamed because lots of people know your favorite band because "Ugh, they're so mainstream."

Yes, I think some of today's music sucks. I don't like listening to certain radio stations because the music doesn't mean anything to me. Personally, I take it as a "hate the song, don't hate the mainstream" kinda thing, if that makes sense. Hey, guess what? My favorite band is Fun. Yeah, Fun. The guys that sing Some Nights, and We Are Young, but...wait a second. THOSE SONGS ARE SO MAINSTREAM. OMG. CALL 911. SHE LIKES MUSIC THAT OTHER PEOPLE LIKE AND THAT'S PLAYED ON THE RADIO AND IS MAINSTREAM AND OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG NOOOOO. Okay. I still like them no matter what songs they play on the radio. Because I like them for them. For their music. For their lyrics. For the feeling I get when I listen to them. It has nothing to do with their image, I like them for them.

I think that relates back to people, too.

My favorite band is Fun.
And the Beatles, I like them a ton, too.
And I listen to Beyonce.
And I listen to Paloma Faith.
And I really, really like Bleachers right now.
Queen is always a good option.
Terri Clark is cathartic in an alternate universe sort of way.
American Pie by Don McLean is my all time favorite song.
The Avett Brothers...so good.
I listen to Panic! At the Disco.
And I listen to Elton John.
Some days, Keith Urban is just really my jam.
Simon & Garfunkel, though, am I right, or am I right?
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I still don't understand why.
I listen to Creedence Clearwater Revival.
And I listen to Walk of The Earth.
And you might have heard of these people, and you might have not, but you should go listen to them.

And I can't wait until we (or me, still deciding what I really mean here) get over this whole solitary thing, because I think if we try to just really genuinely care about everyone then we really genuinely care about ourselves, too. And genuinely caring about yourself is a rare and a beautiful journey.

That girl in the airport has really bad anxiety around people she doesn't know (and even sometimes those she does know, even sometimes her best friends) because she feels like she constantly has to be an expectation, and the airport just made it go haywire and she's really really nervous about flying alone and she wants nothing more than to quite literally die in this very moment, and it's not because she's dramatic, it's because she's being honest with herself, a skill she's mastered through the years and it's a scary and breathtaking talent of hers. So please, please don't yell at her next time, because she already knows she's not doing life right.

And, being honest, I'm really hurting because she's really hurting and I get it and I get that there's nothing I can do and that really hurts. But I think it's a really cool thing that somewhere in this world, maybe someone actually cares and wants to be there for me, even if they're 1900 miles away, and even if they can't make the pain go away, and I still don't know if this is a lie, but it still makes me want to push harder and harder.

And this all made sense to me, and ties in with each other, so I hope it did with you, too.

Reckless Love/Strange Desire YOU SHOULD REALLY LISTEN TO IT, K?!

"So give me a chance to remember
                                        what I've given up to defend you
                                         I would burn my dreams away just to stand in the thankless shadows
                                         of your reckless love...



Get out.
Stand back.
If you don't let go,
you're gonna break me.

Get out.
Stand back.
If you don't let go,
you're gonna break me.

Get out.
Stand back.
If you don't let go,
you're gonna break me.

Get out.
Stand back.
If you don't let go,
you're gonna break me...

I burned my dreams away to stand the broken shadows

of your reckless love

your thankless love

your restless love

a thankless love

your reckless love's

a thankless love..."

--Reckless Love: Bleachers

click here to listen to Strange Desire because it's really really really really good.

and I want to walk to Denver

JUST TO GO TO THEIR FREAKIN' CONCERT.

July 19, 2014 (the letter i never sent)

Hey you,

Have I ever told you how much I hate war movies? My heart hurts too much. I know it's stupid, but I even feel for the bad guys. For example, I watched The Monument Men tonight (Have your seen it? The whole time I was watching, I thought of how much you'd like it) and they had some German soldiers as prisoners to get information from them, and I just wanted to cry. Seriously. I just couldn't stop thinking about how the German soldiers had families, too, and how they probably had to miss seeing their kids wake up Christmas morning (Christmas makes me cry too, but maybe you already knew that...) just like the American soldiers had to. And it breaks my heart to think of their wives and mothers. I just get too emotional in war movies, and I know it's cliche but I honestly just hate war. It's so terrible. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for our military, I just wish we didn't have to have one.

When I watch war movies, I can't help but think about everything I hate about this world. I think about how kids get shot at school. I think about how common sexual abuse is. I think about when people get their choices taken away. I think about kidnap. I think about people who slowly and unintentionally ruin their lives with substance abuse. I think about people who do anything and everything to fit in. I think about people living in poverty. I think about parents who have to bury their child. I just can't not think about it.

Maybe it's me. Maybe it's just anxiety, whatever that means (amiright?) but it just makes me physically sick. You ready for my latest big screw up? A few nights ago I was talking to her, and she told me about her anxiety. She told me about all the things that could happen if she left her house. She's genuinely scared. You know what I did? I got mad at her. I stumbled over my words while trying to offer flimsy comfort, and when she expressed herself, I got upset. "I'm just trying to help you!" I exclaimed. You wanna know the truth? I'm not mad at her at all. I'm mad at the situation. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I know exactly how it feels, and I know that it's all dark and no light and the path is rocky. And, I'm a little upset that God doesn't understand that I would go through it a hundred times over before she had to experience it once. I don't want her to feel this.

So just add war movies to the list of things I won't watch. Horror films, and war movies. Although, I did tell you once that I would watch a horror film if you held me and let me know when to close my eyes. The same holds true with war movies.

I love you. I miss you so much. I can't think about you without my throat tightening and my heart hurting. I need you here. I know that you're only fighting your personal battles, but when I saw those soldiers fighting in the movie tonight, I couldn't help but think of you.

I love you so much. I miss you terribly. I want you home. Please understand how much you mean to me.

All the love in the world and more,
Baylee

My knees felt hollow, so I let them hit the wood floor, satisfaction shooting straight to my heart. They had been craving the familiarity and I guess that describes my life right now. Once my eyes closed a battle ensued in my head, and my heart finally won. I let out a sigh, and the spaces between my ribs became a little smaller.

I know I say sorry a lot for little things, but I think it's because I want you to know I mean it for the big things, even when I can't say it out loud. I sang the lyrics of my heart, and I wasn't surprised at who came up with most, and I really want surprised at the ache that held my throat.

Glendale at 11:13

I don't know if it's me,
but the stars seem to be worth less,
and while my possibilities are endless
I'm frozen in the ground
looking up.

things to be grateful for

• High school is over
• Diet coke is only $1 at McDonald's
• Mom is forwarding you that letter
• You're thinking about him and he's thinking about you
• I just can't convince myself that this is all over...
• ^ I don't think that's so bad...

The rant I actually posted.

Sometimes, I think life is a ditch. A dark ditch, and face it, you're afraid of the dark. Now, the only way out is up, but it takes you forever to figure that out. You dig everywhere. To the left, the right, sometimes you even dig the ditch deeper. You can never get out. Once you finally realize that you need to go up, you try climbing. There's no footholds, so you keep dropping. Sometimes you think you get up, you can even see the light, but you just slink back down again, slowly or quickly, it doesn't matter, because you will end up at the bottom. You're stuck there, until one day God's own hand comes to lift you up. But then it's too late, you're finally with God. And I don't know which is better.

I wish there was something else I could write about. I wish that I could stop thinking like this. I know that no one really cares to read stuff like this over

and over

and over

and over

and over...

but I'm sorry, it's all I feel. It's all I see. It's getting really frustrating.

Right now, my niece and my nephew are "falling asleep" watching Peter Pan, and it's all just too big of a metaphor.

This is stupid. I'm sorry, this is all just so stupid. I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, it's stupid.

I know, this is annoying to read. I know, because it's even more annoying to write. But it's simply all I can think of.

I'm never hungry anymore. I literally force myself to eat and then say "Oh gosh, I was just so hungry," to justify it. I'm literally lying to myself.




So this is my rant. Call it a "plea for attention", but I'm simply calling it "survival",

I have read and agree to all the terms and conditions.

I think what happened was this:

She took it too seriously,

and he was already with them.

Now, understand that half of them don't have the courage,

and I've still yet to figure out the other half,

though, I believe they shut others' emotions out

so that they won't have to come to terms with their own.

He did things to her that he would never let her do to him

because that's the kind of person he is,

and I don't know if you describe that as selfish,

rude,

or oblivious.

The first half kept driving,

because that kind of rush gives them a sense of security.

The lies of the past crumple under their tires

and while the sound is sweet to Karma,

it brings tears to their eyes.

The second half got offended,

because they have always been there,

and "This is a mess.

It's fine.

I'm over it."

but they don't really understand

all the terms and conditions of

"being there".

They just pressed the box

so that the little check mark came up

because that's what everyone does,

because that's what our society is made out of.

I don't think you can get mad at them for that,

even if it did set a crack in your heart.

She got frustrated.

Her old wounds bled,

and she wondered if they would ever stop.

But she doesn't even know that the first half all slit their wrists.

I guess you could say that their cuts bleed by choice,

but I remember the haze in their eyes

that allows them to mistake blood for coffee:

the only thing that'll keep them alive and awake.

He sits at his counter,

reading the paper and mumbling the facts

because "the facts" are what keep him strong,

but he's never stopped to ask if "the facts"
are really just tradition.

Believe me, they have already asked that question,

but may be too greedy to share the answer.

Now, I wonder if they do this all intentionally,

or if their daydreams are just much more relevant

than reality.

If I didn't answer my phone for the next week,

if I never sent out another text,

if my snapchats remained unopened,

which one of them would begin to wonder?

In my mind,

it all seems justified,

however, my body can't help but point out

that this is all so juvenile.

I think my heart would be a lot of help

if it hadn't shut down long ago,

leaving my soul to hang out the clothes to dry.

12:48 pm

Truth is, I'm feeling really inadequate. If I wasn't prepared for this, then what were the last 18 years really for?

I graduated high school about a month ago, but I'm still trying to figure out where I "fit in". This time I'm not dealing with bad hair boys and false senses of security.

I know "no one said it was easy," and I agree with that. But they didn't say it'd be like this either. They didn't tell us anything. They just threw us off the plane, and how we have to figure out how to work the parachute.

#angst

#thisisnolongerafeeling

#itsapersonification

tuesday thinkings

I think we judge the act too harshly,
without thinking of the motives.

black and blue

I'm beginning to understand that,
instead of muscle and bone,
our bodies are made up of
scars and bruises
and sometimes,
if we've been really hurt,
they rise up to the surface
Maybe that's why they call it
"having a tough skin".

I think this could also be
a discovery;
meaning our worst injuries
can't always bee seen.

The real reason pink is one of my favorite colors.

Dear Addilyn-

You've always been the red apple in my life, a symbol of innocence. It's an understatement to say that I felt like I was suffocating when I realized that you turned six in March.

Six years old.

Because, truth is, I remember when I was six.

I remember starting the first grade. I remember playing in the fountains. I remember Harry Potter and ballet slippers. I remember 8 o'clock bedtimes and plain t shirts. I remember it all.

And I see so much of me in you, and I should be swelling with pride at that. I should be proud of the the influence I might have had on you. The fact that you don't smile with your teeth...I did that, too. The fact that you think your sass runs the world...me to a tee. And even though your eyes are brown and mine are green, you even kind of look like me.

Truth is, my baby Addi, I'm so worried for you.

You have no idea what this world has in store for you. You can't understand the damage you can do to yourself. You don't know the trials that will hit you like the sea, thinking you're just a measly rock it can erode away. You just don't get it. And I don't want you to. I want to hold you so close, you can't even imagine not loving yourself. I want to lock you away in the cupboard with endless dolls and Disney movies, so the deepest hurt you know is those displayed through cartoons. I want to find you at 14, still playing with your American Girl Dolls and tea sets, because you don't realize the world is telling you no. I want you to still be happy with seventh place at your swim meet, purely because the ribbon is pink. I don't want you to understand that there were eight people in your race, and you finished seventh. I just want to see the way your eyes light up when the gloss of the pink catches the sun, and the look on your face when you realize the ribbon matches your room. I still want pink to be your favorite color.

Addi, part of me feels like I failed because I can't give this to you.

I know, I know, it's silly. Not even the biggest, baddest Mama Bear can protect her cubs from the real world. That's why I hate this "growing up" thing so much. Addi, I'm so so sorry.

Baby girl, there are so many things I wish I could teach you. I wish I could pick apart my brain, just to find the important parts, and give them to you. I wish I could make you realize that eventually high school will end. I wish I could teach you that your eyes are too big to be hardened by mascara. I want to make you see that eating is so much more worth it than being America's Next Top Model. I mean, have you ever had a burrito from Beto's before? Addi, I want you to know that life will get darker, and black will take on a new meaning for you, but there will always, always be a little pink. Chase after the pink. I wish I was a better example of that.

I want you to know that you're worth so much more than you can imagine, even if you're imagining it on your good days. The worth of your spirit does not lessen with the bad decisions you make, but I want you to understand that your choices have consequences that affect so many more people than just you. But don't let that scare you. If you were me, you'd let that scare you. You'd shut down, so you could stop making decisions that include other people. And when you realized that shutting down was just another one of those decisions, you'd shut down more, and more, until you couldn't tell your own soul apart from a stone.

Please don't forget who you are.

I know it sounds cliche and oh-so-very-Mormon, but I mean it. YOU are Addilyn Kay, and YOU are the granddaughter of Greg and Susan, and YOU are the big sister to Mabel and Aidan, and YOU are more than you'll ever know. Please, please, just try to fathom it.

Please know that when your best friend is mean to you, you have so much to be happy about. Please realize that when you're mom is yelling at you, she still loves you more than even she understands. Please remember that when you're questioning God, and everything else in this world, and you really don't think there's anymore pink, you still have so much more life to live. I'm not going to tell you that happiness is a choice, Addi. I've heard that too much. So much, that it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong when I'm not happy. It makes me feel even worse when I just can't break my face into a smile, like I'm broken down with no repair shop in sight. "There must be something wrong with me, I'm incapable of making decisions," I concluded. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to be mad. It's okay to be frustrated and scared and angry and depressed and all those other things. It's all okay, just don't let it run your life. Don't let it pull you away from reality. Keep a steady head. Remember everyone who will listen to you. Remember those who will pull you back up every time. Remember me.

And maybe I shouldn't be too worried about you turning out like me. I mean, you already know how to swim, that's way farther than I got. I have so much faith in you Addilyn Kay.

I cried when you called Grandma tonight, saying that you finally got second place. You got a red ribbon. You had your fastest freestyle time. I cried because we both know red isn't half as pretty as pink.

Love,
Aunt Baylee

9:24 pm

for only being 6 letters,
regret fills me like an ocean,
and it meets the beautiful skyline
of hopelessness.

FACTS, YO.

• I've always hated the way I draw flowers
• My interest lately has been in numerology (look it up) and I literally spent all of Sunday night with Sarah calculating our friend's numbers. (I'm a 6.)
• Summer has always been exciting, because it's a break. But this time it's a beginning, and I can't see the end
• ^the above scares the hell out of me
• Sia's song Chandelier is my anthem currently and I've never had alcohol
• I'm really glad I'm no one's room mate so no one will judge me by my Facebook account
• YEAH I STILL REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE HARRY POTTER
• I don't know why I'm posting this
• Do we ever really know why we post the things we post?
• I hung out with Sarah and Collin on Monday night and we all laughed about our "high school days" and it was all kinda a joke, but then it was kinda weird
• I figure the more tan I am, the less I have to shave my legs
• ^the above is a PROVEN FACT like I'm a golden beauty right now, and you can't even see my stubble on my legs
• I only cried about him on Saturday
• ^(so Saturday wasn't the first time I cried about him, but it was the first since he left)
• My dinner has consisted of granola bars and cheese and a root beer float
• I'm allergic to cats
• I have a cat
• Her name is Tiger
• Pinterest mostly just makes me uncomfortable
• My dad follows me on twitter OKAY DADS AREN'T SUPPOSED TO HAVE TWITTERS
• I had to Google what ocean separates North America from Europe
• The thing is, I don't feel any different now that I'm graduated

I checked the mail everyday this week.

The shift button on my right side is stuck down from hitting it too hard, which is unfortunate, because now I don't get the satisfaction of smacking the shift key when I want to capitalize something, and I take pride in how fast I can type.

I know there's one of the left side too, but it's not the same.

I never went to EFY, and I'm scared to tell you that I got another piercing in my right ear, but I wonder if it was hard for you to write "I love you," at the end of your letter. I wonder if you thought about the effects, or what your mother would think. I wonder how often you think about your mother, and who occupies your mind the most. Let me rephrase that: I wonder if it's her curly hair, or the way she looks when she smiles that occupies your mind the most.

I'm starting to understand that fairy tales were never more than a story meant to teach us, and that your gifts were a reflection of your ego, not your affection. If this is love, they shouldn't call it "falling" because it feels like drowning, and I never learned to swim. I mean, my mom sent me to swimming lessons, but I always sunk to the bottom, which is probably why loving you was so easy.

Sometimes it's still hard to write the words that make up my heart, and I always figured it was because I locked it away when comments like "fat" and "annoying" no longer held any meaning, but now I understand it's because you packed it up with your shot glasses.

If you say your prayers tonight, slip one in for me. Not because I say words that are poison to your soul, or because I only go to church for farewells. Say it because my "spirituality" is falling under from this pool of your blood that leads right to your heartstrings.

9:49

"What goes up, must come down." applies to everything.
The sun,
gravity,
and emotions.

Cheers

There's something about growing up that takes you away from your friends
and plots you back with your family.
It's as if to say
"You started here,
and you're going to end here."
Today is the time where friends wave goodbye with promises of tomorrow
while you sit in your living room talking music with your big brother.
Today is the day where true colors are unfurled,
and your good friends stay good friends
and your best friend becomes family
and you don't have a problem with it.

Cheers to the girl who became my third sister,
may she forever understand the impact she's had on me
and the continual outstretched hand the leads to my home.
Cheers to the baby who mended a relationship
with a brother who I thought I'd lost.
Cheers to the music that we danced to in the living room,
and cheers to the fact it made me remember past loves
without a longing to hold him again.
Cheers to big brothers.
Cheers nieces and nephews and the cupcakes we ate.
Cheers to my sister who thinks she's my mom,
and my sister who's about as mature as I am
in all the good ways.
Cheers to the newlyweds,
and to the newly divorced.
Cheers to the moments that would never get better,
and cheers to the day they did.
Cheers.

"My family's not rich by any means, but I feel we won the lottery..."

snails, the format.

I Shouldn't Be on Twitter at 12:35 AM After a Long Day...

this is the stupidest tweet:

you can't live in that era because THIS IS A MOVIE that was made in the LATE 70s SET in the 1950s about a girl who lowers her standards and sexualizes herself for a boy, another girl who conveniently has a miscarriage so she can get back with her boyfriend who broke up with her after impregnating her, and a group of boys who personify the "boys will be boys" mentality, topping it all off with song and dance. so no, you can't live in this era BECAUSE IT WASN'T REAL LIFE. this "era" paid people to design costumes and take this picture and made approx. $395,000,000 after all was said and done. if you want to live in a different era, please PLEASE get a picture that is actually from that time period, not from a movie that spent hours trying to get this shot to be perfect so hollywood could dominate our view of the past since we didn't actually live it. thx so much.

now that i've said all that i think you'll be surprised to know that grease is actually one of my favorite movies and i sing hopelessly devoted to you in the shower. i hope that this post didn't scare you, and i also hope that if you're reading my blog for the first time for #summerblogs, you'll forget this post is a thing and read some of my other posts because sometimes i try to write poetry, other times i just rant and think it's a really good idea to post it on the internet (like this) so, um...enjoy?

11:24

My heart has a hiccup, and I can't help thinking I don't belong.

My bones are hollow, and my mind is full, and I can't help thinking I don't belong.

I know the path of self-consciousness leads to a fork in the road, and I never know which way to take...

But I do know I don't belong

You ask me why I use loud words to fake my confidence and my answer is simple:

"Because in the back of the cafe, I can feel my own blood glaring at me."

Then I wonder if I was ever comfortable in the first place.

You smile and tell me "There's always a bright future to change,"

and I finally understand what regret means.

Disorder

I wrote this a long time ago and it just feels very relevant right now so yeah....

Hi, I'm Baylee, and I'm a disorder.

I looked it up, and the literal definition of disorder is "a state of confusion"

so let me say it again.

Hi, I'm Baylee, and I'm a disorder.

I'm a disorder because I want you to listen,

but I won't speak loud enough for you to hear me.

I'm a disorder because I'm 17 years old,

and I think I might be in love,

and furthermore, I won't tell the boy I "love" the "truth"

because he's going on a mission for a church,

and I just don't know what I believe anymore.

I'm a disorder because I'm graduating in a month,

and I still don't know what if I'm going to college,

let alone where.

I'm a disorder because I have a secret dream to be a gynecologist-

like, what the hell is a gynecologist?

JK, I swear I know what a gynecologist is.

I recently read Divergent,

and call me a disorder,

because I liked the movie better than the book,

and I know it's a sin to admit,

but it's the truth.

Let me tell you something.

If you have ever sat in your car,

and you don't know whether to turn right, or left

"No wait-just go straight!

Nevermind, turn around,

what's the point anyway?"

Then you might be a disorder.

If you've ever run your fingers through your hair

and hit a million thoughts on the way out

congratulations.

You're probably a disorder.

If your tears evaporate from the heat of your cheeks,

and your fingers cramp up so the blood runs cold...

If you've ever watched someone walk away

when all you've wanted to do was hold on,

hold on so tight that they learn to love themselves...

And if you have ever wanted to blow your brain apart

just to examine the contents

so maybe,

just maybe,

you could make sense of your life...

And if you can't tell right from wrong

and black from blue

and green

and purple

and brown orange pink chartruese

then welcome to the club,

you are a disorder.

And if you're a disorder,

and I'm a disorder,

that makes us disorder^2

which technically means an orderly disorder-

and I think they cancel each other out,

but I wouldn't know

because I had to bribe my teacher so I could pass Algebra 2

and the only thing I really learned was that overweight math teachers LOVE solving for x

if x is a homemade pumpkin pie...

and if you don't know what I'm saying,

that's okay,

neither do I,

so let me just close my eyes and breathe...

Hi, I'm Baylee, and I'm a disorder.

REAL real talk

My favorite word is "apropos"

and it all seemed very apropos to call you tonight.

To let you know that 2 years is a long time,

and once you leave,

I'll probably never see you again.

And it also seemed very apropos to text you after,

asking if and how I can write you.

I made an ice cream sundae tonight,

cause I can,

and I think I finally understand the meaning of "real talk".

Real talk is when your best friend cuddles with the boy you used to like,

and she's too scared to admit it.

She tells you anyway and you both spend weeks laughing about it.

Real talk is sitting in the sunset with your parents,

and finding out your dad's greatest ambition is to become a scholar.

Real talk is leaving a comment on a cute boy's blog,

then going back to reread it and realizing you sound like a fool.

Real talk is listening to your neighbors play in your backyard,

and remembering when you were there, too.

Real talk is singing Penny Lane while you're doing the dishes,

and real talk is sleeping in a t shirt with no pants on.

Real talk is real life, and I'm ready to enjoy every minute of it.

real talk or something of the sorts.

I'm so scared to write all this because it's not a secret that I'm easily one of the most awkward human beings alive.  Also, I type too fast to find mistakes and make sure everything makes sense. But...here it goes.

Yo! What's up? Hello everyone, I'm Baylee. Hey guys. I'm Baylee Dodge, but on twitter my name is (bae)lee dodge, so you know...

I've never actually taken Creative Writing, I've just simultaneously lived through everyone that does with my two blogs (Penelope Jude, first semester. I stopped Penelope because I had to make a promise to myself to stop looking back and regretting things, therefore no U turn was born) so, thanks, I guess for letting me live through you guys.

I was born August 27, 1996. August 27 seems like such the perfect date to me. I love the summer time. More than anything. The bottoms of my toes are blistered from my lack of shoes, and Sarah thinks it's gross and Jaxson literally exclaimed "Ew! What's wrong with your feet?! Make them better!" when he first saw them.

I still haven't had my first kiss, and I graduate in like a week. I'm going to be the only person in college who hasn't kissed anyone. I always say it's because no boys I knew in high school were worth it, but it's really because the boy I really liked had a girlfriend, and I felt guilty trying to make a move with him, so I just never tried with anyone else, either. I would say it's something I regret (I'm not very good at this whole "no looking back" thing I promised myself), I feel like I should of just kissed someone for the fun of it, but then at the same time I'm kinda glad that I didn't waste my first kiss on someone random. I don't know what I want, my mom said that lots of people don't get their first kisses in high school, but she got proposed to at her senior prom, so she can't talk. (She divorced the dude, by the way.) I went to senior prom with my best friend, and we were going to do this gag were he proposed to me in front of my mom, to make her freak out, but then he didn't do it. And my parents want me to marry him anyway, so it wouldn't have worked. I don't want to marry him (Sorry Collin, except not really.)

I love to read. I love to read Harry Potter. I love Harry Potter. No shame.
I promise I read other books besides Harry Potter, though.

I made this playlist on Spotify called "idk lolz" and it's all I've been listening to for the past 6 days. It includes:
Bennie and the Jets, Get Off of My Cloud, I Wanna Do It All, Shadow, You And I, I Wanna Get Better, We Are Golden, Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High, Killer Queen and others. Go check it out.

I know you're technically not supposed to have a favorite song of all time, but mine is American Pie by Don McLean, because my brother used to play it on his guitar on Saturday mornings. He isn't a very gifted singer, but I didn't care. I know every.single.word.to.that.eight.minute.song. No shame. Now he's married with a baby, and I asked him if he'd play it again. He said he had forgotten, and it basically was like my childhood shattered right then and there.

I should have talked to more people in high school. I hope I don't come off snooty, I'm just really afraid to put myself out there. But once I get to know you I anything but shy.

I'm weigh more than 85% of the girls in my grade. Wuuuut no shame. (Actually, this fluxuates. Somedays I'm all: I'M SO BEAUTIFUL LOOK HOW HOT I LOOK IN THESE JEANS MY BOOTY AMAZING and others I'm like: Damn, I'm fat.)

Favorite love songs that would make me fall in love with any boy who sang them to me, even if he can't sing worth crap:

Run Away With Me (from the Unauthorized Biography of Samantha Brown)
Your Song (Elton John)
The Gambler (Fun.)
Shadow (Bleachers)
Oh, It Is Love (Hellogoodbye)
Light a Roman Candle (Fun.)
Don't You (Darren Criss)
If It's the Beaches (The Avett Brothers)

Whoa, this post got really long all the sudden.

Two things I say way too much: "You win some, you lose some." and "No shame."

I love my friends, I love my family.

I really love my family.

Being an aunt was the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. I've got four nieces (Addi, Kollins, Mabel, and Avary) and one nephew (Aidan) and if I love them this much, I can't imagine how much I'll love my own children.

I'm so afraid that I'll never get married, slash that I'll never get a good job. Also that I won't be able to get pregnant. My mom told me it was silly to worry about getting married now, so let me clarify: I'm not looking to get married at this exact moment, but I am worried that there's a reason God made me love cats so much.

I love cats. Not in the trendy cat fad that's going on right now, I genuinely love cats. I got made fun of in elementary school for saying cats were cooler than dogs (lol) and I have a cat who is 17 years old. (Cats are supposed to die at 13) She's superwoman-cat-thing.

Canker sores are the most obnoxious things ever.

I love listening to people talk about themselves, just so I can learn about them. I love people watching.

I love driving and singing/screaming at the top of my lungs. And when I say I love driving, I actually mean I love being in the car. Driving itself gives me anxiety, which is why I still don't have a driver's license.

Alright, I'll be done now. Oh, one last thing. Thanks everyone for being so dang inspirational. Really, I mean it.

I Wanna Do It All

Flying with you felt weightless

and I wanna do it again.

In fact, I wanna do it all.

I wanna stay up all night going from store to store

spending too much money,

but it's worth the laughs.

I wanna go on a vacation to raise some hell.

Do a few things I couldn't tell my mother about,

and take a ton of pictures that I won't post on Facebook.

(oh gosh, no, not cause they're inappropriate

just because they're mine.)

I'll print them on photo paper

and keep them behind my dresser

with my writing journal from 10th grade.

I want it all.

I want to smile for no apparent reason,

because I've got all the reasons in the world.

I want to cry for three days straight about some stupid boy,

and then I want to find another one.

I want someone who would bring me the beaches.

I'm going to get a few where I need to prove why I deserve it,

but in the end I'll rock my babies with someone who knows it more than I do.

I want to experience everything,

for the stories,

for the lessons,

for the memories.

because tomorrow, today will be just another memory.

I want to visit Greece.

I want to get pulled over (kinda).

I want to read a gossip magazine,

and I want to read one of those self help books.

I want to stand up for my beliefs,

because I want to experience the journey of finding them.

I want to write a poem on the beach,

one stupid one,

and one for the boy that'll never read it.

I want to kiss someone just once,

and then I want a million kisses from someone who deserves a billion.

I want to draw something I'm proud of,

and I want my nieces and nephews to admire me

for what I've been through,

and when they're too young to understand what I've been through,

I want them to admire who I am.

For once in my life,

I actually want something.

I actually think that doing something might be worthwhile.

And I wanna do it all.

tbt

I remember sophomore year. Lol.

I remember pushing that kid to the ground on the playground, then crying when he said he was going to tell my teacher. He never told my teacher.

I remember being so comfortable with everything, it didn't matter what was coming our way. We were there, we were strong, we were invincible.

I remember the highlight of my "theater career". I know it was only a year ago, but no one will ever understand how much it meant to me. I don't like to talk about it.
You: Why?! It was so good!
Me: I just feel cocky talking about it. And there was so much hype about it, it's just annoying sometimes. I mean, we weren't that great.
The truth: I went into such a dark place when it was all over. I can't explain it, but I guess it was just because I was a part of something bigger than myself. I miss it so much.

I remember when he told me that our show "saved his life". I know he was mostly joking with me, but I don't think I've ever received a more powerful compliment.

I remember the ninth grade when we all told Dom we were going to marry him.

I remember when I was intimidated by my best friend. You'd never know it now because we're stuck at the hip, but Sarah and I hated each other.

Lol, still remembering sophomore year.

I remember when I craved going to seminary, and I also remember when I dropped it.

I remember crying after asking him to preference, and being so nervous our entire date I couldn't even function right. Then I remember him saying he had a good night the next day, and a couple weeks after that. I remember being so happy. Then I remembered that he'd also lie to spare my feelings.

I remember making pizza with fresh grown basil, and for some reason it was the yummiest thing.

I remember our Miranda vlogs. Dear heavens, I don't know whether to be embarrassed by those, or laugh out loud at the thought.

Everything in this post feels like it was just yesterday. It's so weird to think that all they are are memories.

I remember Disneyland. Gracious gracious gracious. I could write a book on how I'd do that trip differently

I remember when I thought my cat died and crying for hours, then hearing her meow outside.

I remember the endless webcam pictures. And I also remember the terrible editing I did with the cheesy quotes.

I remember when my first niece was born. I texted my brother "Did you hear Jessica had her baby?" he texted back with "Who is this?"

I remember that I used to type "el oh el" instead of "lol"

I remember American Pie and Saturday chores. I remember asking him if he'd play it one more time for me, and I remember the feeling I got when he said he forgot how.

I remember the wedding. I remember the divorce. I remember the car in the garage and the warnings of her danger. I was too young to understand.

And if you're still reading this, let me go on:
I remember when he had acne.
I remember the night in the garden, when I was genuinely afraid for her.
I remember my mom buying me a soft pretzel to make up for the trauma.
I remember Uncle Kenny.
I remember picking out my outfit so I would look cute for my sleepover with my favorite cousin.
I remember when my favorite cousin moved.
I remember when I began being intimidated by my cousin.
I remember the beach. I remember the waves. I remember the shells.
I remember my mood ring.
I remember hearing that she was pregnant. I remember not understanding why everyone was sad.
I remember popsicles and competitions.
I remember when all I wanted was a Facebook account.
I remember "The Zachs"
I don't remember my baptism.
I don't remember my first cat, Crystal.
I don't remember my cousin Alicia.
I think I remember Grandpa Dodge. I say I do, because my world would break admitting I don't.

This is the only way I can think of ending this post...

Inspired by Alec Hardison's Highschool

High school is stupid because it's where a ton of insecure teenagers make fun of other insecure teenagers. Then the second group of insecure teenagers gets all butt hurt, but it won't stop them laughing about the insecure teenagers in the grade younger than them.

High school is stupid because I stayed in the theater department for three years. Sorry, that probably doesn't apply to you, but it was a huge reason I had a negative high school school experience. (This is not being said to hate on theater people. You do your thing, kids. It's just not my thing.)

High school is stupid because the teachers are way more concerned about giving you homework and a big test than you actually teaching you.

High school is stupid because I've stressed out more about my grades than I ever have about actually learning the material.

High school is stupid because everyone judges everyone. Don't lie, you've judged someone in your high school experience. And, I know you won't have to lie for this one, someone judged you.

High school is stupid because cliques. I KNOW THEY'RE CLICHE, BUT GUESS WHAT. THEY ACTUALLY EXIST.

High school is stupid because you are judged by the type of music you like.

High school is stupid because everyone walks around like they own the place.

High school is stupid because unless you're deemed worthy or something (I don't actually know how it works) certain people won't give you the time of day.

High school is stupid because I try to start a conversation with someone, but I am automatically judged because I was in the drama department.

High school is stupid because instead of looking for the best in everyone, you automatically look for the worst.

High school is stupid because if you talk too loud, you're obnoxious, and if you don't talk enough, you're snooty.

High school is stupid because if you tell the truth you're a bitch.

High school is stupid because it is so hard not to care about everyone else. Admit it. you tell yourself and everyone else "I don't even care what they think of me." but there is part of you that does. It's way deep down, but it's there. And that just sucks.

So, I know that I graduate in three weeks, so none of this matters, but let me say it anyway.

hi.

I'm Baylee.

You guys hear my name, and I'm willing to bet that you think one of these things

• theater kid
• really loud
• kinda awkward
• badass haircut (okay, you probably don't think that, but I'm still trying to get used to it, so I have to tell myself this.)

That is what high school labeled me as. Now, here's what I think of those.

• I'm probably not going to theater ever again. It was a fun hobby, but doing it in high school kinda ruined it for me. If I do do something in drama, I'm hoping to direct. Have you ever read a book and it's like the author is painting a picture in your mind? Yeah, that happens to me all the time, except I totally imagine how I would make it into a movie or a play. I think it'd be really fun to direct. Anyway, I'm technically no longer a theater kid, so there's that label down the drain.
• Yeah, I can totally be really loud. Most the time it's because I'm feeling pretty insecure so I'll fake confidence with being loud. Sorry, I know it's super annoying most times. However, when I'm really comfortable in a situation, I feel like I'm typically quiet, or at least talking in normal tones. I do have a really loud laugh though. It's something like a walrus getting run over by a tractor while the person driving the tractor is snoring.
• Okay, yeah, I'm pretty awkward. I just have a really hard time talking to people that intimidate me, or people I don't know. But once I get to know you I'm only awkward sometimes, but it's kinda just my character.

I don't really know why I'm posting this. I don't think many of you care about who I really am, slash some of you knew me in junior high so you don't want to know who I really am (I've changed a lot since junior high. I wouldn't talk to me now if I knew me in junior high either) but hey, maybe I'm just attempting to make these last three weeks of high school a little less stupid. I don't know why talking about what I think are my biggest labels will do this, but hey...it felt nice.

I KNOW LOVE POEMS ARE THE WORST.

Sometimes life can be really hard.

But somehow,

sitting with you,

being able to feel the cold cement on the back of my thighs...

it made it all worth it.

Your words could do something to me

that a good relationship with my mother couldn't even attempt.

You instilled a light of hope

in what felt like a useless shell.

I miss you so much.

It's awkward to miss something that was never yours.

I can't believe you did this to me.

I can't believe I'm blaming myself.

I have never been more rich

than when you looked at me,

that night on my porch.

"You're beautiful, you know that, right?

I was just thinking about how I've never told you that.

You're so extremely beautiful,

inside and out."

The cliches became rocks to steady me through the next couple weeks.

I want to scream.

I want to scream until I can convince myself

all the wrongs were right,

and it was never worth it anyway.

I have never wanted to shut down more

than in his car when he asked me

"What were you guys, even?

Like, did you date?

I don't even know what went on with you guys."

I crudely brushed him off

because I couldn't face the truth.

What he was thinking was probably a lot better than what happened.

Maybe I'm being dramatic.

Maybe they're getting tired of all the love poems I've written.

I know love poems are stupid.

I know they're cliche,

and the words are like a gasless cig lighter.

I know this poem has no affect on anyone but myself.

I'm so mad at me right now.

We could talk for hours.
We did talk for hours.
And nothing felt more cold than when our conversation ran dry.
I realized I didn't know what to say.
You didn't fill in the blanks.
I wanted to throw up just to fill the silence.

I don't know why I do this to myself.

I have never felt more comfortable

than the nights there was us,

and I have never felt more helpless

than the nights I remember us.

(wrote this for you, then stumbled upon this. Alis is just better at the words, and I couldn't be more grateful.)

My Day

Well I cut six inches off my hair, but only like four on one side.

I wanted my hair to be off balance, like my life.

(That was a joke, laugh plz.)

It's been an interesting day.

Now it's 8:14 and I don't know what to do.

So, here's what I'm feeling right now if anyone cares:

STARS - FUN

(^ the above boy meets world pictures is unnaturally accurate considering the events in my life right now)

I Really Like Reading.

How To Read A Book Without Taking On All The Feelings the Characters Feel Which Means You'll Most Likely Get Emotional At The End:

1. Don't read the book

How To Enjoy Reading A Book:

1. Pick a book

2. Stay up late reading it

3. Empathize with the characters

4. Begin to take on all their feelings and emotions

(this means you might cry when finished. or you might be uncontrollably happy)

5. Finish the book

6. Smile (yes, even if you're crying. appreciate the art of what you just read.)

7. Repeat

You're Right

You always think it's just you.

You always think that there's no one who could possibly understand

what you're going through,

that no one in the world feels the way you do.

And let me tell you something:

you're right.

You're right, because you are unique

and no single person thinks the same exact way you do.

And that's so beautiful.

It's amazing to know that out of seven million people,

you are you,

and absolutely no one can take that away.

Though you are completely unique,

the only one who can truly understand you,

you are in no way alone.

I have layed on my bed,

my heart pounding so fast,

it bumps into my lungs

sending my breath to get tangled up in my veins.

My blood runs cold,

and I can't cope.

Most days,

I don't see the point anymore.

You tell me I go through all this to die?

It's not worth it.

But I can't just lie down to become a shell of what could have been.

Why?

Because I am not alone.

It might not be worth it for myself,

but to someone else,

it makes all the difference.

And while my best friend might never be able to make sense of my life,

though she can't understand what I'm trying to say

and she will never feel the way I have felt,

we are in this together.

We have intertwined hearts and fingers

just to get through it.

And she would die before she left me to go through this alone.

You have very uniquely touched someone's life.

You have imprinted their minds with a crevice so deep,

it will probably stay there forever.

And that is breathtaking.

No one could have made that

except for you.

So next time you've had it

and you're ready to throw it all away because

"What's the point anyway?"

Remember that everything you do,

you take someone along with you,

for better or for worse.

So, yes,

you are misunderstood.

Absolutely no one knows how you feel.

That's the beauty of it.

Congratulations.

Sight of the Sun

Mama's Table

We had a family dinner.

Now all is said and done.

Tylenol PM

Being honest, I don't understand why we can't sit on a hillside and watch the clouds while writing poetry, because I've yet to churn out something that amazes me.

I keep getting all these crazy ideas, but I think my brain is working against me, because the words freeze in my mouth and the blood can't get to my fingers.

I've been thinking what real artistry is and I still don't have an answer because when I broke my restraint it ruined my mom's day.

I like breaking almonds in half with my two front teeth before chewing them. I let my tongue run over the crumply outside and then on the smooth inside. The harder the almond is to break, the bigger satisfaction. Sometimes I put too much force on and hurt my jaw. #confession I have a weak jaw, along with most other muscles in my body.

Is your heart a muscle? What about your brain?
No, silly me. Those are organs.

#confession I don't have strong muscles, or organs.

I really just want to sleep.

Really, that's all.

But, I couldn't sleep

so I took so Tylenol PM.

"Use: To help sleeplessness due to minor aches and pains."

30 minutes have past.

I'm still awake.

My heart is beating.

My brain is spinning.

My eyes are watering

and I still feel the pain.

Guess this isn't minor.

it's almost a cheesy love song.

1, 2 i'm thinking about you
3, 4 i heard a knock at my door
5 we're feeling alive
6 but then we throw my feelings in the mix...
7, 8 i really think we'd be great
9, 10 please not this again...

i'm laying in my bed
my eyes are closed
but my mind is open to the picture of us...
of us sitting in your truck,
you know, in the back.
my nails are painted
but it doesn't matter what color.
i don't even care what we're doing
because you're finally mine.
the best part is we're clean.
both of us are clean and ready
and excited
and fresh for this new perspective.
and then i open my eyes
and i take in the reality.
the dream slips away and
i curl up tighter.

10, 9 you're not mine
8 maybe it's fate
7 or maybe it's my depression
6, 5, 4 my head hits the floor
3 have fun away from me
cause without you,
i'm not 2.
just 1.
and i think you're the 1.

o hai

hi.

Haven't been on here in a while.

"it's fine, i'm over it."

Did I just forget how to write,

or did the writing leave me?

Pretty sure one my most recent posts was about a Hot and Spicy McChicken,

AKA THE FINER THINGS IN LIFE.

hi!

Are you still there?

I swear I'm not crazy!

I swear I'm not crazy.

I SWEAR I'M NOT CRAZY!!!

i SWear I'm nOt crAzY.

I swear I'm not....

whatever. I don't need to prove anything anymore. I never really did, actually. Y'all people don't matter. Sorry, but truly you don't. after graduation i'm done. i'm out. peaccce. (lol whatever we all know i'm staying in utah so i don't have to leave me mum) ESPECIALLY YOU PEOPLE WHO THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT ME. Just leave, and figure out your own shit before you dive into mine. Please, I pay someone to take care of my shit, she's called a therapist, and last time i checked you don't have a pretty paper hanging up on your wall so don't even try to act like you're qualified for my life, cause hun, i'm not even qualified for my life anymore. thanks for never actually caring and just talking. it really helped tear me down.

but let's be honest the problem was never you, it was me. but i'd still really appreciate it if you left.

Hi, are you still reading this? Sorry. I know it's...

maybe I just shouldn't post it.

You know, I've written poems. I've written poems in my absence. But they're not coming up here because there's not enough ink my brain to flow them onto paper, and my fingers aren't quick enough to type up the dreams of my soul.

I just want to take his face and dump it into a bucket of ice and scream "HERE. HERE IS MY LIFE NOW APPRECIATE IT."

I wanna pick her up and shake her and then brainwash her and make her understand the truth.

I want to lay in bed where the hands that touch me aren't cold and the bruises don't hurt as bad.

I want to break that chandelier and have it fall in the middle of the dance floor as everyone stares laughing at me. But it'll be okay because I meant to do it and I'm slowly flipping everyone off. Then I leave with my crew and we're laughing at the one boy who craves attention and the other one who can't look with an honest eye.

I want to immerse my fingers in the middle of a Chick-fil-a sandwich, because they're always really warm.

I want to bite her shoulder because then maybe I'd be satisfied and she'd understand.

It's fine, none of the above makes sense to me either. So I guess I'm really just saying sorry, but I have nothing to apologize for, so just take it as you will. Maybe if I say sorry wrong will be right and I won't be so confused anymore.

A Letter to the Moon

Dear Moon,

I've thought about drowning myself in the rain, because I like the smell too much.

I always thought that maybe he'd come with me to the top of the hill, where we'd simply sit and laugh. I always imagined the sun would be setting and there would probably be flowers. However, the unrealisticness of that dream is now dawning on me as I realize that it couldn't be sunset. It couldn't be sunset, because when the sun is gone, you come out Mr. Moon. And you have abused me thoroughly enough.

You have seen me through all stages of life. Remember the games sister and I used to play when we shared a room? Do you remember that, Moon? Or maybe the vision is clearer of when I got scolded for staying up too late reading, then simply ignored my mother and read more. You've seen many laughs Mr. Moon, the the tears far outnumber the laughs. It has been under your watchful eye that I have crashed into a million pieces, only to be put clumsily back together again. The problem is, I'm beginning to realize that I can only put me back together so much.

Doesn't this phase you, Moon? (No pun intended.)

It's funny, I think I'm fine. I think I'm fine when the sun is high and my bones are warm and dry. My bones are pushing me along with soothing words of comfort, and I'm stupid enough to actually believe them. But once you come out again, it all deteriorates, and I am left with nothing more than my brain, which has proved to be the most dangerous tool of all.

Do you even care, Moon?

The worst is waking up to your looming face. How dare you still be up when I'm awake for a new day. The Sun is supposed to be there to clear away the woes of the night before, and to make sure the paste that holds me together sticks. I think the Sun is getting tired of his job, Moon. I'm getting tired of it, too.

Why are you taking your anger out on me? I'm sorry, I bet you'd like to give heat like Sun. I bet you wish that people weren't asleep the only time you're out. I suppose that being smaller than Sun is really a hard thing for you. And the fact that sometimes only parts of you can be seen must be really annoying. Is it frustrating that the stars, who you have dominion over, far outnumber you in 'awes' and 'oos'? Don't let that bother you, you are the main attraction.

Please remember, dear Moon, the the Sun is just a star, too.

I think I might know how you feel. I can't tell north from east or right from left, so please guide me through the night. I swore I wouldn't take any u turns.

Yours Truly,

(i wanna get better)

"Do you think J-Lo has a brown lawn?!"

Their laughs were all so unique. They could hit it high and let it loose as their laughs soared through the crowds and into the heavens. It's a cliche metaphor, but Joan thought it was perfect.

It's funny how idealistic life can be, and you don't realize it until it's over. It's like an episode of Friends.

Joan's laugh was something like a dying seal making its last wish. Natalie's was cute until she started wheezing, then it was just humorously beautiful. Wyatt's was just adorable. You could hear the laugh and know who it was, it fit him so well.

The laughs intermingled to make this beautiful harmony, as they all agreed you don't need to prove artistry, it's simply known.

Grabbing the debit card, they ran from the house and into the car. Natalie often let her rage turn into rash decisions. She felt like he owed this much to her, she was entitled to the card. "Maybe we should just go to McDonald's?" Joan suggested, "I need me that Hot and Spicy McChicken." Laughing (per usual) Wyatt drove the car straight to the drive through.

"Welcome to McDonald's, order when you're ready."

"Hi, can we get six Hot and Spicy McChickens and a large water?"

"So is the six Hot and Spicy McChickens?"

"And a large water!!"

Paying with Toby's card, they turned into the parking lot and began to eat, just laughing and their own humor. "This is legendary."

"We are legends."

And they didn't even feel that bad.

(Okay, so Joan and Wyatt felt a little guilty. Nat had no shame.)

But for the most part, they didn't even feel that bad.

Sneaking into the house, they returned the debit card, and left

laughing.