To my good friend Carolina

Dear Carolina Liar,
 
I just wanna say thanks.

Thanks for letting me hide behind your name for a couple months while I tried to navigate the maze connecting my heart and my brain.

When we made it on the top 5 I'm sorry that I told my class it was me I just wanted to scream and shout THAT WAS ME NOT CAROLINA. THOSE ARE MY WORDS.

THAT WAS ME,

When we posted something we were proud of and got 1 comment I wanted to blame you.

Come on Carolina, 1 comment?

I'm sorry.

I wrote the words on this blog trying to make you proud of me...
what am I talking about... You are me.

Sorry you weren't a popular blog and this post will probably get 2 comments but you know me us.

We've never been popular.

So thanks for letting me post things I never would have had the courage to do under my name.

Thank you for gathering the praise on our good days and hiding my shame on the bad ones.

For letting people feel comfortable telling me they liked my words when they probably wouldn't have otherwise.

Thank you.

It's been a good run and I think we make a good team Carolina.

But there's only so many days until there's nothing in the world for me to hide behind. So I'm starting with you.

Sincerely,

Nicole Rae Anderson

E A D G B E

We skipped out on calculus and you played our favorite song on my guitar instead.

The music filled the room, our blue eyes, and the cracks in our hearts. 

We skipped out on a movie and listened to our favorite 80's rock station in your car instead.

The music filled your car, the space in between our hands, and the blank holes in our skulls.

We skipped out on being cool and sang primary songs on the way home.

The music filled the road, the creases in your smile, and our forever cold hands.


But in the middle of our song the smallest guitar string broke and so did something inside of me. The words got stuck in my throat and our blue eyes haven't connected the way melodies should. Our hands have gotten too cold to reach out and our sentences fade off with "okay" when both of us know it isn't.


It's been 7 months and I never thought I would need to learn how to restring my guitar.

But I did.

I fixed the string he broke the day we were supposed to be nowhere near music, and I fill my heart with my own songs now.

My Heart Broke

My heart broke and it felt like my eyes turned into Niagara Falls.

My heart broke and it felt like no amount of super glue could ever combine the pieces again.

My heart broke and it felt like hands were only made for hitting never holding.

My heart broke and if our pillows caught our tears mine could fill a reservoir.

My heart broke and calculus homework somehow didn't seem to matter anymore.

My heart broke but after my reservoir dried up and all my super glue was gone, I finally looked at my heart through the cracks.

My heart was broken but the inside wasn't a hurricane,

there were no blood stained memories crowding the space,

no. All I could see was cobwebs filling the corners,

filling the corners.

red handed

You caught me.

1. I hate halloween
2. I sit in the parent section at football games
3. I don't go disco skating
4. I've been to In-n-out twice
5. I hate going to parties
6. I'm not excited to move out

I'm the opposite of the perfect 17 year old high school senior. You caught me. 

How to make me cry

Every 12 year old in the 6th grade made fun of us. But that's what we got for not believing the other person had cooties. (we probably did have cooties). 

I remember sitting in your living room (the one your mom makes me sing in now) while we broke open the new legos you got for your birthday. The other kids were out by your shed (the one I can't look at anymore). We didn't care what anyone said. 

You never warned me about the hidden step leading into your kitchen, just so you could laugh when I tripped. I never made an effort to remember, because I'd rather hear you laugh. (I tripped again on it yesterday. Did you laugh in heaven?) 

You made me watch Lord of the Rings with your family (I haven't watched it since). 

When you walked me home from Timberline one day you taught me that if I'm ever with people who are making out, immediately wrap their faces together with plastic wrap so they can't breath. (I still thought kissing was gross). And then we would joke about all the people you made out with. 

I tried forgetting 9th grade yearbook day until I remembered you were the first one there with open arms. (Sorry I got tears on your members only jacket). 

I wish I could go back to everyday that I told you to cut your hair and confess that I really loved it. (even when you made me french braid it). 

You visited me when I got my wisdom teeth out just so you could laugh at my chipmunk cheeks and bring me ice cream. (It was my favorite kind). 

I held everyone's jealousy in Choir, because I got to stand right next to you. (I loved every second).

I can't get myself to clap more than 6 times for anything, because you taught me that that was the limit. (why 6?). 

You taught me how to play pool, wear a scarf fashionably while ice skating, and how to eat spaghetti without a fork. (such useful skills, I know). 

And I'll never forget that last time we talked. Or the feeling when I heard the news. Or that stormy sunday night when my whole view on the world shifted. Or when the heartbreaking sentence "this means it's real" escaped my lips. (I miss you). 

The "you can talk to me" comments pouring in like the ocean, when the only person I wanted to talk to was you. I wanted to know if you're okay, I still do. (Are you okay?) I don't want to cry looking at a selfie of us in my car. But I do. 

Because this shouldn't have happened. (but it did).