Horrible.

Why do you have to  be such a good person?
Why do I still have it in me to hate you?
Why can't I just stop?
I have come to the conclusion as of late that I am not as good of a person as people may believe.  I hate people who are happy with one another and I hate the people I have lost.  Someone can make the kindest jesture toward me and I will still hate them.  Just because of my situation.  I hate it but I know it will never change.  Its one of my fatal flaws...

Home Is Where You Make It.

These walls they know my pain.  This paint it shares my tears.  These nail holes they understand each and every scar.  This unfinished house represents me in every possible way, it comprehends each and every moment.  I've grown up here.  My height has been measured in sharpie on the walls.  I have sat in each and every corner whether it be for punishment or losing my self in a novel.  This house isn't just a place of residence it's my home.
Yesterday I got the 90 day notice.  This home is no longer mine.  I have to pack my books, my Nic-nacs, and my pictures.  But the thing I am putting off most is packing the memories.
I always hear of the people who 50 years down the road still live in the houses thier children grew up in... I hear about getting a complete tour of that house with each and every detail maped out.  From where they lost thier first tooth, to where they stood when they came home from thier High School graduation. 
I will never be able to bring my husband back to my fathers house.  I will never be able to show my husband where I used to sit and stare at the painting on the wall for hours gettting lost in the beautiful sun sett. I will never be able to show him the  place of my childhood. But what hurts the most is that I won't have the opportunity to show my kids where I went through everything they have gone through and all they will go through.
But I guess I'll get over it eventually.  I'll find a new home.  It won't be a home though.  It will simply be a house.

For my Father. My Back Bone.

i can feel the pain.
its spreading from the inside
out.
i thought i would be able to mask it,
when the time came of course.
but now that
the day has arrived for me to
walk alone,
i don't know if i can walk at all.
it's beginning to cripple me,
this pain,
or at least i am made to believe.
it started out as an
annoying ache in my abdomin
but has progressed to where
i'm affraid i'll soon need a full
body cast.
i always knew that seperation would be hard,
leaving my backbone behind
while i go to live my life,
now thats a
different story.

Allergies.

For as long as i can remember I have always been the sniffly friend, the friend who can't feed horses, the friend who is so conjested she can't see.  For as long as I can remember I have always been that friend.  My best friend pointed this out to me not too long ago. 
You see she knows me like the back of her hand.  Of course she would she's been my best friend since kindergarten. 
Anyways I believe her exact words were "You're the sick kid friend" it actually made me chuckle because its the honest truth.  and my prime example of this is a time when Dina and I were in the 6th or 7th grade.
Dina's mom was always into wild life.  She had a pet raccoon for the majority of our childhood and she nursed a baby blue jays back to health to many times to count on one hand.  but inparticularly she had a weak spot for horses.  Which would explain Dinas love of the creature.  One time she took Dina and I out to her friends ranch where we were always welcome to explore.  This day we didn't feel like adventure much so we decided to feed the horses.  We fed them alfalfa.  One of the many plants I am allergic to.. almost immediately my hand started breaking out in little red bumps. I asked Dina what we were feeding them she replied "I don't know... stuff you feed horses?"
Appearantly she wasn't comprehending the seriousness of the question so I asked her again "what are we feeding these horses? i really need to know."
She replied "probably alfalfa. why?"
My heart stoped. I had always heard of those people dying because of stuff they were allergic too.. and I was a very over dramatic 13 year old. "I'm allergic to alfalfa!" I shouted as we began to run toward the house.
When we got there her mother emmidiately told me not to touch my face so of course my face started itching uncontrolably because it was the one thing that I couldnt touch on my body..
Dinas mom turned on the hose and washed off my hands and the bumps went away.  I was fine.  but to this day I'm iffy when it comes to what I feed animals

Winter.

Winter has never been my season.
the cold chill of its breeze makes me long
for loving arms.

It will be a long December.
every leaf to fall on my path, every shiver
that runs up my spine,
will remind me of you.

The fog will surround me.
a genuine central valley winter
i cant take anymore.

Round here everyone will know the truth.
you're gone. your words still warm and alive
all over my mind.

I will leave the Winters breeze, the trees losing
thier leaves,  the chills that run up my spine, and the
fog for you.

But i will take the memories of a central valley winter with me.
because the truth deserves to live on in my heart that
beats alive. rather than in yours that bleeds cold

There's A Big Difference.

your smell, it lingers on my skin.
and with the sudden startling aroama filling my nostrils I am taken back to my time with you.

your sweet mohogany eyes starting into mine only inches away.  your arms rapped around me tightly.  keeping me warm and aware of your pressence.  your noses' cold tip gently caresses mine. more intamate then the most passionate kiss.  your words like a song flowing continuously into my ears. my favorite lullaby.  my fingers run though your never tangled hair.  and i get lost.

my heart is pounding and I cant find my way to the truth.

your lying brown eyes minipulating mine only inches away.  your arms rapped around me tightly.  uncaring and aware of the fact I love you.   your noses' ice cold tip bumps into mine.  urging and having only one dirty deed on your mind.  your words so fakely adoring.  every syllable perfectly placed where I want to hear it.  I run my hair through your ratted hair.  and i am found.

Every time i hear your voice in a crowded room.  Everytime i see your car parked against the street curb.  Everytime i feel your eyes staring at me walking by.  my heart wavers a bit from the truth and me hating you to my dream and me loving you. 

you pulled the silk over my eyes. and when i pulled it off it was only dirty wool. 

I am.

I am Cari.  I am a girl.  I have blue eyes when I'm sad, grey eyes when I'm numb to emotion, and green when I'm too pissed off to put my anger into words.  I have crooked teeth.  I have a third nipple and a baby toe that turns on its side when I walk.  I have long brown hair and its my favorite thing about myself.  There isn't many other things I like about myself but there is always my hair.  I have broad shoulders and ear holes that are too big.  I have short legs and long fingers.  I have my fathers nose and my mothers lips, but I have the mind I have created on my own.

I am Cari.  I am a middle child. I am the grand daughter of two women who lost their lives to cancer.  I am the grand daughter of a cancer surviver.  I am the grand daughter of a WWII veteran.  I am the grand daughter of a woman strong enough to give a baby boy up for adoption.  I am the daughter of an addict. I am the daughter of a welfare recipient.  I am the neice of a man who commited suicide.  I am the neice of a heroine addict.  I am the neice of a dislexic woman.  I am the neice of a recovered addict who has her life together again.  I am the sister of an unwed mother.  I am the sister of a violent young boy.  I am the aunt of a little boy who will be better than those before him.

I am Cari.  I am opinionated.  I cannot stand to watch my loved ones be beaten, verbally or physically.  I am crazy and sarcastic.  I can keep you on your toes or let you walk all over me.  I think best when I'm alone.  I have no fashion sense.  I am pro choice.  I walk everywhere because its my cure for life.  I have made monumental mistakes in my life.  I have nightmares more often than I have pleasant dreams.  I sleep talk.  I am a victim and a strong willed human being.  I can over come any obsticle layed before me.  I have never been one to bow down to the steriotypical kingdom of high school. I can't get enough music in my system.  I can watch the same movie seven times in a row if I like it enough.  I will make a difference in the world around me.

I am Cari.  There are too many things about me to put in one blog, for your unknowing eyes to read, to let myself think about in one short period of time.  but heres a look through the window of the house I call my life. Maybe I'll invite you in sometime.