Cornelia Boom

xoxo,

5:23 PM

yesterday i told my dad i was scared about the reveal

he said, "well i'll still love you."

he said, "whether you're you, or cornelia, i'll still love you just the same."

and i hope you do too.

it's time we moved back to munich, or london, or dublin,

or wherever it was you came from

it's time we got back to our biology

and to our chemistry

and to sunday nights that involved a lot more reruns than dim computer screens

but paris is only miles away

and just because your skin is a little thinner

a little lighter

doesn't mean you can't be seen

so buy a ticket for the overnight train back where you belong

don't come for the roses,

or for the tower,

or for any kind of heaven sent pastry

because this is so much more than just some beautiful city painted on the back side of any postcard.

this is home.

and if you need me,

this is where i'll stay.

Madeline McEwan

oh how could i, oh how could i forget?

12:24 AM

i remember when the always blue sky was once red

i remember what dress i was wearing
and how it looked just the same

how red always has and always will be my favorite color
and how few people know that

and i remember the fourth of july
i'll always remember the fourth of july

i remember your jacket
and your arms
the same day you bought me lemonade
and told me i looked pretty

i remember the first time my dad cried
and the first time my mom didn't

i remember red cheeks
and bad eye contact
and enough respect to deserve no goodbye

i remember my first love
and the ones that came after
and how i knew they never would

and i remember you

dark eyes
gluten free personality
the drink you always brought to english
and that boy you chased for years

i remember you

big nose
curly blonde hair
another rubik's cube fanatic
whose morning bowl of cereal
was far less important than the one you skated in

and of course,

i remember you

sweet lips
star wars junkie
everything logical heartbreaker
and you were good at it

i remember the restless nights

and the reckless nights

and the nights i could've sworn i was sailing the moon

i remember the friday night rebels

and the saturday night devils

and the sunday morning celestials who never did anything wrong

i remember the ones who made it,

and the ones who didn't,

and the rest of you.

because how could i forget?

her name was adleen

1:09 AM

to you they mean spring but to me they mean winter

they mean pink blankets

and teacups

that hit the ground a little sooner than you hoped

they mean teacups

and white dogs

and every stolen chocolate from grandma's pantry

but they mostly mean birthdays

her name was adleen

and she was 2

and she was almost 3

but she thought she was 8

because she danced like she was 8

because she sang like she was 8

because she spoke about angels like she was 8

and we celebrated her birthday every monday

for 8 mondays

and her favorite insect was a butterfly

because they flew to her

because they always flew to her

she held butterflies in her hands

she

were

flower

and she was

and her name was adleen

and her birthday was every monday

because we knew

they'd stop coming

and they did.

january 16 2006 - december 9 2008

ok

2:32 PM

it's december 5th and everyone has already been asked to preference

the only boy i wanted to take has

but if he hadn't, i don't even think i would've asked him

the last dance i went to was ok. and the one before that was ok. i've never been to a dance where I came back on a cloud higher than I left. maybe there will be one this year.

who knows.

the living room floor is cold. my brother won't stop eating chocolate from the advent calendar. it's 7 pm and i probably should've made dinner, but my eyes are too tired.

that's ok

i've been ok for enough weeks that ok is just a drill

it's a fire drill that has lasted one too many class periods, and one too many attendance schools, and it's getting irritating, and unnecessary, and we do this every year, so can we go back inside now?

can i go inside now?

where it's a little warmer

a little quieter

where hands still hide under blankets

but the air,

it never got in between anything

i went on a drive last night with an old friend who wore a white hat and lies that matched

and honestly,

i just wanted it to be you

i played your second favorite song the whole way home

which was a mistake

i saw street lights just as clear as the last 5 days

which haven't been

so how are you?

how's your sister?

are you still ok?

sorry if im late

because it's half past 11 and half past your bedtime

it's half past whispering under made up constellations and half past constant conversation

it's half past the 6th

and half past dreaming of ever going back.

and i know you're ok

and ill pretend i am too

but im not.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

11:10 PM

im lost for words

but i'll do my best to find a few:

this thanksgiving im mostly thankful for friends and my dog

im thankful for my dog, and hidden keys, and basketball games that make your palms sweat

and i already regret not going to enough basketball games

but "it's just high school"

they say

"so shoot for the stars"

they say

"shoot for the stars if you want the moon."

but please, hunny,

why

would

shoot

for
something

i've

never

even

wanted.

today in english we were asked to write about our "philosophy of life"

mine was to be grateful

im not sure if it really is, but if i tell myself enough times that it is, i think it will be

so here it goes:

to number 1: thanks for taking my phone. a lot. i like it when you say "goodnight kiddo." right now that's about all i can think of, sorry.

to number 2: thanks for never saying happy birthday. sorry i still call you. it doesn't mean anything. your voice is just familiar. and sometimes feels like home.

to number 3: thanks for the 10th grade heartbreak. even though nothing happened. and i don't remember anything about US history. take me back, i could point out exactly where you used to sit

to number 4: thanks for changing how i see things. sorry i'm always tardy. i would tell you i'll work on it, but i probably won't. and i'm pretty sure you get this a lot, but top 3 heroes: my grandma, my mother, and you.

to number 5: thanks for doing my homework. and being my second mom. you're going to be the best mom. i wish i was as smart as you. then we could room together in college or something.

to number 6: thanks for the shoulder. sorry i stained it. hopefully it'll come out in the wash. (not everything does though, i've tried) sorry i was mean to you in elementary school. well, behind your back anyways.

to number 7: thanks for the butterflies, i guess. my favorite night was when you showed me your music and drew on my hand. the night we talked for hours before we even knew we got ditched. just know, that for me, i could think of a million things less painful than silence

to number 8: thanks for the soup. maybe i appreciated it so much because it doesn't come often. i hope you notice i still say i love you every time i leave for school. because i do.

and to number 9: thanks for every blue eye (of course). and sorry for all the times i've let you down. too many to count, i know. but i heard you could "name every grain of sand" so i dunno, maybe you can. sorry i promised you i wouldn't swear. sorry i promised you i wouldn't cry. and sorry i'm mean to my mom. just help me love her.

because number 9,

i promise.

i do.

and i'll keep reminding her in hopes that maybe,

someday,

she'll be strong enough to say it back.

crescendo

10:30 PM

my sister won't stop playing frosty the snowman, and i'm trying not to mind. because when i was 12, and resolute, i did just the same.

i've played the piano for 12 years now and every day the keys sound more and more like home. i have this one song i've loved since third grade. i think we all have that one song.

i've played the piano for 12 years now and i've never learned chopsticks. my teacher wouldn't allow it. but i didn't really care. i trusted her.

she told me i was supposed to dream about performing. she told me if i played fast enough i could forget any kind of scar. i don't know very much about sign language, but i knew my fingers could say anything close to unshakable. she told me i was supposed to play until my fingers bled, and not from pain, but from passion. from edvard grieg's death carols to shubert's unneccesary pedaling. my fingers bled.

they bled

i've been in love for 12 years now. i've been in love with mozart, and dot art, and that chill that runs down your neck when you hear something beautiful. i've been in love with reserved people, and cities, and pretty furniture with prettier stories. the kind you find in salt lake, or maybe just grandma's front porch. I don't know what it is about brick houses with white window panes, but one day, i have to have one.

i quit playing 6 months ago when i needed it most. my dreams were tainted, my scars weren't healing, and my fingers couldn't spell anything but broken. my finger tips bled, and not from passion, but from pain. from the 2 am playlists and the 3 am goodbyes. my fingers bled.

they bled

and i never understood why

so i tried again

so i put everything on the line

the notes,

the sharps,

the flats,

the dotted halves,

the heart.

i played on defeat splattered keys, but that never bothered me.

because i fell in love with every drop, and every finger. i fell in love with every finger that wiped them clean with ghosts, and backseat kisses, and every hymn that resembled some kind of imperfect redemption screaming:

"you're still alive"

and i was.

and i am.

and i always will be.

so until god believes my unshakable anthems should be played for only the angels:

then please,

take me with you.

after the storm - mumford and sons

11:56 PM

hurricanes are most common during the months of september through december.

maybe it's because the weather changes,

maybe it's because even the ocean is worried about christmas shopping,

and that wouldn't surprise me.

hurricanes always seem to hit me in november.

maybe it's because the weather changes,

maybe it's because of the ACT, i don't know,

that wouldn't surprise me either.

but this year, i think it's different

because november came like a downpour

november came like late night swims and cold blankets

and november is the 7th

november has pretty hair, and pretty music, and november doesn't even mind broken movie screens

november is anywhere between stupid parties or just your basement

november is beautiful, and scary, and young, and confused, but that doesn't matter because november is just seeing what happens.

and i like that.

i wish i could freeze time a little faster than our hands. i wish curfew was further north from the last place we drove, and i wish your favorite songs and unimportant letters were somehow forgotten easier than the first person i ever loved.

november was a downpour

november was a 6 foot 2 downpour

and november is just seeing what happens

and maybe,
one day,
maybe november will be december.

but if not, that's ok.

because november taught me to be happy:

even if there was a little rain

Newer
Stories

Older
Stories

xoxo,

oh how could i, oh how could i forget?

her name was adleen

ok

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

crescendo

after the storm - mumford and sons

cornelia

lines

archive