I wonder

january has come around again
and I am reminded of
how hard it is

to forget you.

this months brings a certain feeling with it
the snow so white and pure
but bitterly cold to the touch
it creates an aching nostalgia
painful and sweet.
makes me think january will never feel the same

again.

letting go is difficult to do
when I can still feel pieces of you inside of me
telling me you haven't let go, either.

I'd like to think
you still think
about me.

especially when the snow falls.

especially when you're on that mountain.

but I know my mind has romanticized you far too much.

It's still so hard to see you
but I hope you are doing well.

I think about the last time
I saw you
and the time before that
and the times you called me

to apologize. but you could never follow through.

I have him now. And I love him.

But I still wonder

maybe I'm meant to wonder
never to know what we would be
because I know how it feels when you touch me
I know your voice the moment I hear it.
but I never knew you the way I wanted to.

your weird quirks
every single facial expression
the lines that trace your body
the thoughts that occupy your mind
how it feels to truly know you

how it feels to truly love you, and be loved by you.

maybe I was never meant to know your love

....

I know I'm supposed to let you go
but honey,
you make poetry flow out of me like no one else.

I just need one call.
one moment.
one coincidence of our souls seeing the longing in each other.
running right into each other

god I just wonder.

...and I hope you read this.

woods

the canyon makes me sick.

not the changing leaves or the snowmelt streams

but all the memories that live there

the nights that brought me to my knees

the drives that taste like ex lovers

the kisses that never lasted long enough to love 

never lasted long enough to love.

it's funny how good memories can turn bad

it funny how the boy I loved all through high school 

decided blonde wasn't his favorite color anymore. 

never did I think I would drown in the snowmelt streams 

or crumble with the falling leaves

but my summer freckles are fading 

and october is approaching too fast.

I'm sorry and I love you

the only way to truly end this year is to be brutally honest.

first of all, I hated senior year. I was never antisocial. until this year hit.

I left school during every lunch trying to escape the loneliness I felt at lone peak.

I experienced things that I really had hoped I would save for college, but sometimes you can't control everything that happens to you.

January was a hard month for me. I'm still adjusting. still learning from it. but it's ok.

this was the first year depression hit me hard. I don't want you to feel bad for me, because it has given me so much empathy for people with severe depression. which is a lot of us.

this was the first year I understood what love is. and what it's like to be without the one you love. the pain can be unbearable at times. I hate loving him when I know how much wrong he has done to me. but being a victim to it doesn't make it any easier either.

this was the first year I really struggled with fitting in at this school. I'm not mormon in a school that's 98% mormon. sometimes you just want to find your people. the ones that you can be completely yourself with. but I always felt the need to put a mask over my self when I entered lone peak. I've never had a problem with mormons. but being a minority really wears on your soul after a long period of time.

but this was the first year that I truly felt loved in a class. I am so grateful for that. I wouldn't have made it through this year at least somewhat sane without paris. thank you everyone.

scar tissue

scar tissue all over your spine
and scar tissue playing over and over in my mind.

purple was going off the deep end
purple was insane,
but sane enough to draw you away.

purple was goodbye.

a.m.

"you have made my life a living hell over the past two weeks"

grabs her waist and throws her on the bed. 

cuts deep.

and he'll yell at her just to make her happy.

make her feel justified. 

1 a.m. screaming and mornings filled with the smell of coffee and arguing about maids. 

when does it end?

after I leave I know I'll still hear them fighting

whether it be in the form of divorce papers

or heartbroken phone calls. 

there were fourth of july's with makeup thrown at the walls

and I ran away

far far away

into the woods as far as my ten year old feet could take me

and I came back with broken ankles and a concrete smile that hasn't been broken for eight years 

and a little bit of pixie dust that I sprinkle over my eyelids every night

in hopes of better days. 

but it's been eight years.

and I'm running out of dust. 

bittersweet end

I'm checking my notes one last time for any lines I wrote down in moments of inspiration.
but that isn't real.

the truth is, figuring out how to end this blog was nearly impossible.
Indy Anne was a part of me that I didn't even know existed.
she allowed me to write about things I could never speak of.
she's the reason my depression didn't seem so bad.
she showed me that I didn't need to be so afraid of Paris.
or of tourists.

I have her to thank for that.

but I also have everyone else to thank.
if it weren't for all of you, I would have never had the courage to write the way I did.
your truth has inspired me in ways I cannot fathom.
ways that truly show the parts of you that none of us knew from just glancing at your face.
so thank you.
for the good and the bad.
thank you for all of it.

to nelson.
thank you for opening my eyes to a world I was too afraid to look at before.
thank you for writing the truth.  
thank you for throwing desks and rapping and dancing and running around the room like it was your job.
and it was.
thank you for teaching us how to write without a single grammar lesson.
thank you for showing me how to face my demons.
thank you.

so here is one last truth.

I like my guitar more than I like most people.
I have to have the stereo volume on an even number or a multiple of five or it drives me crazy.
I hate engaging in small talk with people I won't remember two years from now.
shit is my favorite swear word while driving.
making out is my favorite pastime.
talking about my feelings scares me more than anything.
I sing more than I talk.
I hate being called "too skinny" or anorexic. the truth is, I eat like a trucker. but with a fast metabolism. and I will never be sorry for that.
I have lots of walls up. walls that have bruised my relationships with too many people.
but I believe in love.
and I believe that this blog will help me find it.

so thank you to everyone who read Indy Anne.
you were the best Paris I've ever known.

Hannah Peterson

cold desert

you came and went

just as fast as fall 

did. 

crumbled under your feet 

like the dead leaves on the frozen ground

i was broken. 

and i wondered how someone could be as careless as the changing seasons

from autumn to winter

you stole my summer.