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Beatrice McCandless

An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, August 1, 2015. The boy next door. I'm writing this because i'm home alone and i have too many thoughts and no one to share them with. I just traveled the world for a month. And the day before i left. He told me he would miss me. He said he would miss me "so much". And it wasn't because i would be gone for a month. But because after that. He'd leave for two years. He said we still had camping trips to go on. And mountains to climb. After we kissed the second time.

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Beatrice McCandless | beatricemccandless.blogspot.com Reviews

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An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, August 1, 2015. The boy next door. I'm writing this because i'm home alone and i have too many thoughts and no one to share them with. I just traveled the world for a month. And the day before i left. He told me he would miss me. He said he would miss me so much. And it wasn't because i would be gone for a month. But because after that. He'd leave for two years. He said we still had camping trips to go on. And mountains to climb. After we kissed the second time.

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Beatrice McCandless | beatricemccandless.blogspot.com Reviews

https://beatricemccandless.blogspot.com

An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, August 1, 2015. The boy next door. I'm writing this because i'm home alone and i have too many thoughts and no one to share them with. I just traveled the world for a month. And the day before i left. He told me he would miss me. He said he would miss me "so much". And it wasn't because i would be gone for a month. But because after that. He'd leave for two years. He said we still had camping trips to go on. And mountains to climb. After we kissed the second time.

INTERNAL PAGES

beatricemccandless.blogspot.com

1

Beatrice McCandless: August 2015

http://www.beatricemccandless.blogspot.com/2015_08_01_archive.html

An attempt to tip the scales. Monday, August 31, 2015. Trying to figure all of this shit out. Love is not caring about morning breath. Love is giving you my mittens because your hands are colder. Love is "did you make it home safe? Love is staying home from parties. And kissing in parking lots. Love is responding to a text with a phone call. Love is how your hand fits on my waist. Love is San Francisco and Russia and South America and North America, too. You looked out the window in my room. But that pre...

2

Beatrice McCandless: February 2015

http://www.beatricemccandless.blogspot.com/2015_02_01_archive.html

An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, February 28, 2015. And i miss you more than words. It was 9:14 when my mom got the call. She ran sobbing into my room. And when she told me. I didn't believe her. No he didn't. no he didn't. no he didn't.". Me and my sister. We didn't talk for 3 days. I think she was afraid she would say something wrong. I was just afraid of breaking down. I've driven past your house every day. Hoping i'd see you in the yard. Just like i always used to. What do you say to a mother.

3

Beatrice McCandless: here's the thing

http://www.beatricemccandless.blogspot.com/2015/04/heres-thing.html

An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, April 25, 2015. You've made my heart stop 4000 times since i've met you. And conditioned my heart to racing for years. Now it can outrun the best. You keep thinking you're in love. But your love is a brand new white t-shirt. That's dingy after a few hikes and climbs. But you wear it until it rips. My love is satin and it's been passed down. It's been red and blue and yellow once, for a few weeks. And aside from a few stains,. I try to keep it clean.

4

Beatrice McCandless: March 2015

http://www.beatricemccandless.blogspot.com/2015_03_01_archive.html

An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, March 28, 2015. Beatrice who eats oatmeal every morning. Who's little sister is cooler than her. And who rarely brushes her hair. Who thinks coconut water is really gross and who is trying to like mushrooms. Beatrice who loves when you read your poetry to the class. Who kills every plant she owns. And thinks about your feelings a lot. Beatrice who cut off her hair and pretends she doesn't regret it. Who prefers cloudy days over sunny. Who loves the word Cadillac.

5

Beatrice McCandless: the boy next door

http://www.beatricemccandless.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-boy-next-door.html

An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, August 1, 2015. The boy next door. I'm writing this because i'm home alone and i have too many thoughts and no one to share them with. I just traveled the world for a month. And the day before i left. He told me he would miss me. He said he would miss me "so much". And it wasn't because i would be gone for a month. But because after that. He'd leave for two years. He said we still had camping trips to go on. And mountains to climb. After we kissed the second time.

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celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: denouement

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2015/05/denoument_24.html

Sunday, May 24, 2015. What high school taught me. Was that you can never start a sentence with "and" or "but". I also learned that it's better to be known as a bitch. Than to be known as a girl that you can walk all over. What high school taught me. Was that you must memorize the quadratic equation at all costs. It also taught me that sometimes it's your friends that can say the most hurtful things. And while it may be easy to forgive. It's a hell of a lot harder to forget. What high school taught me.

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: drawn curtains

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2015/03/drawn-curtains.html

Wednesday, March 18, 2015. She shouts her opinions from the rooftops. Entrapping the sky as her captive audience. This is her world. And she will have it. She smashes her fist into cruelty,. With her steel toed boots. Her voice is loud. She will never not be heard. But in her own mind. The silence is suffocating. Life's a stage and she's a star performer. Act like nothing's wrong. Paint on a smile they'll see from the nosebleeds. Don't let them see you sweat. They say eyes are the windows to the soul.

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: January 2015

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2015_01_01_archive.html

Wednesday, January 28, 2015. She staggers around in her six-inch heels. Leaving lipstick stains on her shot glass. Slurring about how she feels like she's soaring but she can't feel her face. Yet somehow she makes it home every night,. But she never lets anyone know how broken she feels. Because she knows that there's no one left to pick up the pieces. Her morning ritual is advil and coffee and pain. But like a moth to a flame. The bright lights draw her back every weekend. A boy with a punch. Keeping at...

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: all you need is (self) love

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2015/03/all-you-need-is-self-love.html

Monday, March 2, 2015. All you need is (self) love. I fell in love. The life-altering, earth shaking type of affair. This year I fell in love. Not with the boy that wears the beanie in my fourth period class. Or the sweet talking barista that memorized my order at beans and brew. Not with the guitar player or the study buddy or even the boy who took my breath away. And definitely not with the jock swaggering down the 100 hall. They say when you fall in love it's like you're wearing rose colored glasses.

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: montana

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2015/02/just-because-it-should-be-said-again.html

Wednesday, February 25, 2015. February 26, 2015 at 12:50 AM. Beautiful. Strong message. I love you Jon Bentley Rawle. February 26, 2015 at 10:44 AM. I watch this too frequently. I love it. February 26, 2015 at 4:26 PM. Ive been watching this all night and day. Love it. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Previously known as Celeste Cobain. Poetry wasn't an assignment. And we all found ourselves. Because we went looking. Think by Celeste Cobain on Grooveshark. I am the princess, and you are the pea.

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: April 2015

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2015_04_01_archive.html

Saturday, April 11, 2015. I am having a quarter life crisis so i wrote this depressing post. 18 and in limbo. Too young to drink. But old enough to die for our country. It's midnight and my mind won't shut off. Tick tock tick tock life is a clock. Tick tock tick tock I just want time to stop. Time to trade crayons for ballpoint pens. Fruit loops for raisin bran. Innocence for the world on your shoulders. Graduation is a funeral. We put on our sunday best. And watch our childhood die. Not yet, anyways.

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: December 2014

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2014_12_01_archive.html

Sunday, December 28, 2014. We could be invincible. We could be invincible, you know. We could fly to rome with gilded wings. And rule france from the halls of the versaille. Let's serenade pedestrians in birkenstocks and visors. Screaming ironic throwback lyrics at the top of our lungs. From the edge of the rustiest railings we can find. We may be tone-deaf but our song will be perfect. With the taste of freedom on our lips. And our hearts stitched painstakingly onto our sleeves. You could want me. I thi...

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: August 2014

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html

Friday, August 29, 2014. You Don't Know Me. You may think you know me. You might have some preconceived notion of who I am, a rough sketch of my essence derived from the way I dress, that "dirty look" I shot you once in the hall, my Twitter feed, the people I'm friends with, the gossip you've heard from the girl who sits behind you in English. You may believe that you've got me figured out. You may think you know me. But allow me to let you in on a little secret-. You don't know that my confidence is as ...

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: i am having a quarter life crisis so i wrote this depressing post

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2015/04/i-am-having-quarter-life-crisis-so-i.html

Saturday, April 11, 2015. I am having a quarter life crisis so i wrote this depressing post. 18 and in limbo. Too young to drink. But old enough to die for our country. It's midnight and my mind won't shut off. Tick tock tick tock life is a clock. Tick tock tick tock I just want time to stop. Time to trade crayons for ballpoint pens. Fruit loops for raisin bran. Innocence for the world on your shoulders. Graduation is a funeral. We put on our sunday best. And watch our childhood die. Not yet, anyways.

celestecobain.blogspot.com

SAM CHRISTINE: October 2014

http://celestecobain.blogspot.com/2014_10_01_archive.html

Sunday, October 26, 2014. I'm not going to write out all of my fears because trust me, that would take way too long to read. But wanna know one thing I am afraid of? I'm afraid of the stacks of college applications on my dresser waiting to be filled out. I'm afraid of the ACT score I'm supposed to receive in 3-5 weeks. And I'm afraid because I didn't even finish the math section. (I just filled in C, C, C for the last ten questions. Oops.). I'm afraid that my future holds all four. I'm afraid to die beca...

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An attempt to tip the scales. Saturday, August 1, 2015. The boy next door. I'm writing this because i'm home alone and i have too many thoughts and no one to share them with. I just traveled the world for a month. And the day before i left. He told me he would miss me. He said he would miss me "so much". And it wasn't because i would be gone for a month. But because after that. He'd leave for two years. He said we still had camping trips to go on. And mountains to climb. After we kissed the second time.

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