Memoirs of a Musician
Kara Elizabeth | 18 | artist | barista | in love with love

Last night I woke up at 2 in the morning
I wanted to compare it to waking up from the feeling of a space in bed next to me
Last night I woke up to the sound of thunder
I wanted to compare it to the way I used to fall asleep and wake to the sound of the your voice
Like when you’re sleeping and sounds feel louder and closer
Last night there was a lightening strike above my bedroom
I wanted to compare it to the way you struck me with wonder and fear and burnt me - all at once
Last night I stood in the rain watching strange men open all of the doors to my home
Poking around and inspecting it and trying, to no avail, to patch the wounds God might have inflicted
I wanted to write how it reminded me of losing you
How they all wanted to just fix me
How I felt the same way in that puddle as I did the last time I hung up the phone with you
But I didn’t
Because I realized then, that I had other feelings
Besides the feeling of you

That numbness as tears are conceived in your sinuses
But are miscarried on the way to your cheeks
Never spilling out of your eyes
Or is it that hallow empty feeling
The morning after one too many
One too many lovers
One too many inhales
One too many drinks
Is this all?
Maybe it can’t be described
Maybe it can’t be contained to these lines
Maybe it’s all in my head

"I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating."
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (via imfantasyparade)


i wish we were elephants
so you’d never forget me. 

"I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen."
John Steinbeck, Winter of Our Discontent (via girlwithoutwings)
"You might as well be dead. Seriously, if you always put limits on what you can do, physically or anything else, it’ll spread over into the rest of your life. It’ll spread into your work, into your morality, into your entire being. There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you. A man must constantly exceed his level."
Bruce Lee (via CaptainofCrunch)

This was inspired by a quotation I saw on here, I don’t even know if it makes sense but I hope the new year brings me a lot of better ideas for my writing. 
(featherumbrellas - poem series #46)


This was inspired by a quotation I saw on here, I don’t even know if it makes sense but I hope the new year brings me a lot of better ideas for my writing. 

(featherumbrellas - poem series #46)


I wrote a poem
by all of the other girls
you’ve slept with.
It was long
and dark,
like the third ones hair,
but this isn’t that poem.
This poem
is the one I wrote
when the shaking stopped
and I was finally able
to control the beat.
This poem
is the one I wrote
when I realized
that her waist line
isn’t mine
and yet it’s still the place
you rest your hands
at night.


Vancouver: Never before have I been in a city that was as able and eager to strike up a conversation.

Monday, September 1, 2014

I made it
I look around in the dark and all I see is that I made it
I got through another day
Sometimes by struggle
Sometimes by smiles
An hour away from new beginnings
A sun rising and shining and promising
Both sweet beginnings
And bitter endings
All the same
I made it
We made it
And we can’t stop now

I thought that I had no walls. That I had no guard, I was open and come-and-go as anyone pleased. Then I realized that was my protection, my guard. I had walls just like every other kid except mine were made of glass. I was that kid who hid in plain sight but still no one ever found him.
That was my whole point, I guess.
There I am. All at once, all in plain sight, as far as you can tell.
See me. Judge me.
There I lay, wide open for all to read and make their marks upon.
See it isn’t about slowly revealing all my cracks and chips to someone. To me it’s about throwing the mess I am into a heap at their feet saying, “take a look”.
If they kick at it, or just stare, or walk away, not text back, or do anything but pick me up piece by piece and help me carry my weight and let me do the same for all of their broken pieces and scratches… Then they’re not it. They’re not someone I could go in for the long run with. And that’s okay. Because there are plenty out there whose little fragments fit perfectly inside mine.
Sometimes it feels like you have nobody, but that isn’t the case. God is catching them up to the place where you both have compatible pieces.
Sometimes you meet someone who isn’t there yet. Or you’re not there yet. That’s okay too.
Everything you feel is ok. You belong here. Just like me.