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dark summer rides on a bus full of girls
still high on a challenging victory
music blasting full volume
girls singing their lungs out
discarded fast food and milkshakes tossed about haphazardly
pulling the window down to stick my head out
into the starry, warm summer air
feeling the cooling breeze whipping my hair behind me
my girls, my team behind me singing
forgetting that that girl hates her, and this group doesn't get along
with this one
because on nights like those, after a hard earned win
we were a team, we were one
everybody is laughing and sharing drama
composing break up notes to toxic online boyfriends
singing to Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift
videoing each other rapping ice spice
stomachs full of junk food
hearts full of happiness
laughing about what a bad driver our coach was
creating new inside jokes and new friends
on nights like those
I was free
Volleyball games were some of the best nights of my life. And I don't have many days I call my best, but those are top of the list. It crushed me when my mom said I wasn't allowed to play last year.
i learn to lean in,
play their game,
because it’s easier
than saying no
and watching it get ignored.

i touch like i mean it.
flirt like it’s instinct.
laugh when they call me trouble
because at least this way i’m choosing my path
instead of being forced down theirs.

i learned early;
if i take off my own clothes,
no one else can undress me.
if i say my own words first,
they can’t change what i say.

they call it confidence.
i call it staying safe.
a way to get by,
learning to hold myself up
after being broken down.

i slip beneath their gaze
in lipstick.
in lace.
playing the part they praise.
i seem so in control, don’t i?
like a girl who’s never been trapped.

but really,
i keep control
because it protects me
from being powerless once more.
I no longer have the name I was given
when I was seven it was changed
"for your safety"
Like my mother would care enough to come find me
the only thing she cared about was her next fix
I didn't get a say in the changing of my birth name
They changed
One
Letter.
One letter later I had a different identity
I hated the name, told my adoptive mother so
every time she called me it I responded with
That's Not My Name.
but here I am, ten years later, responding to a name I hate
It reminds me that they didn't care enough to listen to me
That's Not My Name.
sometimes when strangers ask me for my name I am still tempted
to respond with the name of my past
it is beautiful, it was MY NAME.
All I wanted was to have an opinion, to be heard
To keep my name my name my name MY NAME.
That's not my name
From Hayley to Harley. For years I got teased and called "Harley Davidson" and "Harley Quin". Technically they changed my middle name and last name too, but changing my first name hurt worse since I hated the name SO MUCH.
"I will fall in love with you
over and over again
I don't care how, where, or when
No matter how long it's been
You're mine
Don't tell me you're not the same person
You're always my husband and I've been
Waiting.
Waiting."
These are lyrics to a a song written by Jorge Rivera-Herans, creator of Epic the Musical. This song is how I feel about you, ☀️. You will always be mine. I love you.
I promised you forever,
and forever it will be.
Because even through the worst nights,
you were there for me.

Even though there are millions of miles,
pulling us apart.
I promised you forever,
and you still have my heart.
If you see this, I still mean it. And I always will <3
oklahoma is wild plums
rocky mountains and sandy hills, evergreens and deadened trees
snakes and bobcats, coyotes and deer
oklahoma is wild weather and cowboy hats
kids running barefoot and parents
drinking and going to rodeos, running into friends at the local wal-mart
oklahoma is cows at every turn
drought suffering red dirt and run-down houses
blackberries, museums and Indian heritage
oklahoma is watermelons and rattlesnake festivals
small towns and strong communties
oklahoma is home
God
I have never believed in god
But last night I prayed
For you to have stayed
And for me to have not let you go
☀️
I love you
You are the sun
you are the rain
I love you
☀️
What did I expect?
To leave a haemorrhage
of violets wherever I walked?
No. A lost son is called prodigal.
A lost daughter is just called lost.
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