Casey, 20, NC.
Junior at App State University in the middle of no where studying journalism. Fan of over hyped music, pretending to take pictures, pretending to be a good writer, laying in bed with lots of blankets on, and over-saying and using the word "awesome" to describe things.
Aspiring writer, blogger, cheese monger, and music connoisseur.
I wish I could marry Tom Hanks.
Ask me anything
Date a girl who wears grandpa sweaters because she ate all the grandpas. Date a girl who bores you with tidbits about the weather. Date an imperfect girl. Date the movie 500 Days of Summer. Date a picture of Jennifer Lawrence holding War & Peace and a slice of pizza. Date a pizza in the shape of a girl. Date a girl who likes the tv shows and the music you hate. Date a brown m&m. Date a girl who doesn’t make you her special little snowflake in all your efforts to seem superior and grandiose. Date a girl who spoils all your favorite movies, you little shit. Date a girl who puts her hair in a cute top bun and drinks tea and smears mac-and-cheese all over her body like it’s the mud of all the mountains you dream of. Date a girl who eats the fucking food off your plate and puts ex-lax in your oatmeal. Date a girl who smells like the sea and that one writing class you took where you wrote a bunch of poems about cigarettes by the beach and took up smoking cloves. Date a girl who has been dead for FORTY YEARS.
I’ve been reading The Frenemy since I was in high school and I still fall in love with it every time I read it.
How to play Girlfriend to Someone Else’s Boyfriend
Text him at work tell him there’s more to life than just his dead end job pretend you don’t know about his finances. Don’t ask him.
Text him after class, make promises of tea and coffee dates that will never happen; you’ll never see him in public. Don’t ask him.
Text him to watch a movie tell him how much you like his company, his witty commentary, how much you’ve missed his weight on top of you, tell him how much you’ve wanted him. Like his girlfriend never will. Call him Sir, because his girlfriend calls him babe. Kiss the taste of patchouli out of his beard, remind him not to forget his phone. Don’t ask him who is waiting at home.
On Friday nights when he is going out, imagine he is with his friends, pretend you’re there with them and he’s happy. Don’t ask the mutual friends.
Text him while he’s drunk and honest and truthful and laugh at everything he says but smile when he tells you he loves you. Smile When he tells you he loves you. Don’t get angry When he tells you he loves you,
Wake up passive aggressive. I watched you drink up sadness and smoke a bowl of manic-depressive for breakfast.
We drowned our lungs, they filled, we held on; our faces turned blue.
Our ears rang with the cacophony of settling pressing our palms to our ears, the sound echoed into our heads threatening and violent or full of beauty, it clouded our judgment so we couldn’t decide.
You were a compliment and it became you. you were just the hyphen in last names, the periods between your abbreviation. I was just the reflection of inside, the comma between ideas, the space between sentences.
Go to bed sadistic. I watched you cuddle emptiness and wake up masochistic.
You told me nothing else made you quite feel , , and like I did. And asked me to touch you in the way she never had to wake up, again, and again.
Our ears rang with silence left by the gaps in the sentences and the ends of the paragraphs that we couldn’t punctuate, determined to know if you were a question mark… or an ellipsis? Clouds came over our eyes so we couldn’t decide.
I was your reflection and it became me. We were those lost years of lives that mothers refuse to talk about, the breath that lingers in the cold air.
I woke up passive, I spit up the sadness but, I’ve never been a fan of breakfast anyway.
Thinking of throwing myself in front of cars creating accidents out of habit, like we were never here,
But only for tonight, lets just exist.
I no longer need you to scratch S.O.S. into my back like pleading for emergencies to happen. I’ve already been saved by one too many souls, carving my name into them for salvation; with promises to make me beautiful.
But only for tonight, lets skip the pleasantries.
I’m keeping hold of your warmth in the pocket of my jeans, hoping for it to spread on my body like a disease let the cat scans light me up like a Christmas tree;
But only for tonight, stay closer.
I wasn’t lying when I said I was a shit show you were sitting in the front row, you told me the view was better that way.
But only for tonight,
Call the ambulance. I’m crashed, created a spectacle, held up the evening commute, we can’t make accidents without a purpose, be my last mistake. —————————- first poem I’ve written in 3 months, I’m kind of proud of it but it needs so much work. enjoy.
January. Rang in the New Year with my friends burning slips of paper in a makeshift fire. Went back to Boone. Slipped hard in the hallway after my shower and busted my ass—hard. I couldn’t walk forever. Started a new semester. Continued to deflect the advances from my ex. Saw Maya Angelou read-it was life changing. Had the first of many Andy parties. Found out The Postal Service was touring for the first time in 10 years. Received an anonymous Yosef Compliment and died. Discovered Lil B. Experienced the great flood. February. Started reading the power of now.Had a fancy girls party. with Andy. Just Andy. Did some stuff with a dude. Lets not talk about that. Had a kind of sort of Valentine. Wrote two very extreme poems. One got me in trouble. Got my ticket to The Postal Service!!!! Went to a breakfast party. Chopped a lot of onions while drunk. Had my first ex experience. March. Spent the first few days in a cabin in the middle of the woods with friends and family. Watched a bunch of how to make it in america. Snow storms. Fell more in love with Girls. Fell more in love with poetry. Fell more in love with my new friends. Fell in love with tea, the lizzie bennet diaries. Went to a potato party. Went to a cat party in the same night. Drove 2 hours to see Spring Breakers. Received a letter from a kind stranger. Became inspired and felt worthy. April. Became a published poet. Received the news of a death of a mother who was very close to me. Bought a new vintage dress. Started seeing the ex. Got real upset about seeing the ex. Got banned from seeing the ex. Continued to see the ex. Went on a parkway picnic. Went to the art bash. Took a mental health weekend because fuck 420 and is that still a thing? May. The Peel Release party. That was a defining night of my year. Fuck. Chaperoned a cinco de mayo party and made everyone do funny shit. Put andy to bed. Finals. They were relax. Downloaded the new Vampire Weekend. Finally moved out of East Hall forever. Went home. Babysat Ulla after her surgery. Judged a speech and debate tournament in Philadelphia and NYC. Had the worst trip of my lifetime. Swore off helping anyone ever again. Started my new job at daddy’s. Kind of started dating “the ex.” June. Saw The Postal Service. Drove through a hurricane to see them. Had an incredible night. Almost cried. Continued to work for dad. July. Got my kindle. It was beautiful. Turned 20. Continued to work. Continued to hang out with my friends. Went on a girls trip to Raleigh with my mom. Made our own rings. Facetimed the ex. August. Finished work. Visited poppy in Florida. Started school. Met the new roommate. Saw the ex. Cried from disappointment. Audrey left for Finland. Saw NSYNC reunite on my TV. Spent many days at enews. Spent many days trying to figure shit out. Talked a lot. Fought a lot. Cried a lot. Blamed myself a lot. Broke things off with the ex. September. Cried a lot. Went on a date to Asheville. Found out I was worth more than what I had been valued by the ex. Took the reigns on my life. Started going to therapy again. Rejoined the Appalachian. Started regularly going to my great clubs. Felt loved by the girls of Lips. Became a solid member of Lyric. Rocked poetry Wednesdays. Parents came into town. Drank wine and relaxed. Got involved with “smelly.” Had a week long relationship with smelly. Experienced all I needed to to get over the ex. Lovey had a birthday party. Became a lot closer to the girls whom I love dearly.Started seeing the most incredible therapist who has changed my life. October. Started off the month by crying over smelly. Had a photo shoot dressed as a skeleton. Went to a party with glitter all over my eyes right after. Woke up with no glitter on me. Became a lot closer to the girls, still. Finally met the elusive #ct. Saw Dr. Dog, again. Won free apples. Had a nice fall break. Saw smelly again. Cried and never spoke to him again. Became closer to the lovely ladies and lads of Lyric. Became more into my poetry. Talked more with #ct and gained a new friend. Went franzia crazy at Trey’s birthday. Had the best brunch after. Went as Sylvia Plath for Halloween. It was awesome. November. Ignored a lot of people. Did some regretful things. Became friends with the ex again under the therapist’s watch. Got more into school and under pressure of school. Spent many days at enews. Registered for the new semester. Spent more time with the girls. Had a great thanksgiving. GOT CAST IN THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES. December. Semester finished in a flash. Hung out with friends. Did the art crawl thing. Did the Peel Release Party thing. Did the reading day thing. Had secret santa. Aced finals. Came home. Got the new roommate. Judged a debate tournament. Laid in bed. Did deep thinking. Did good thinking. Spent perhaps my last christmas with my 93 year old grandfather. Showered him in kisses. Felt loved and welcomed. Spent time thinking. Did a mental clearing of my life. Happy 2014, everyone.
"tell her you saw her across the party
and ask her if she believes in ghosts
or if she knows where candle wax goes
and if she believes in love at first sight
(because you feel like you only just learned to see)
ask her if she see the way thermals move
down the canyon
and tell her you have big plans for the turbulence
of her hair.
make sure she knows the last time you like this,
you were walking away from a car crash
she has made your entire life up to this point feel
like a car crash.
tell her you are terrified
of her lips and the natural disasters
of which they must be capable
and her fingers which you are imagining in a spiral
along your spine like ten cultures coming out
of a high draft.
ask her, has she even felt her bones shake
like pine boughs in a storm?
her voice quickens your pulse like a soundtrack
to a horror movie.
her eyelashes flutter like laundry on a line,
like ghosts she may or may not believe in.
that she makes you feel like wet new butterfly wings
and your blood vessels are heavy as a map.
she is the place where two creeks meet, and meet.
ask her what she would chant to the earth
if she knew it would keep the dirt from swallowing her.
the reverberations in your head demand either a kiss
or a blackout drunk.
tell her if you could read the shiny violence of her eyes
you wouldn’t have to drink yourself to sleep.
she makes you feel pushed back and bared
like the teeth on a scared dog.
you have been sick with her name before you knew it.
that you can think only of plunking the piano of
her ribcage until, unerringly, you know the
chord beneath each rib.
that you dream feverishly of whispering drunken verses
to the space between her shoulder blades.
tell her you have come from the broken hills
where ghosts still move down the hollows
grown scared and now scared shitless
at this party.
tell her you’ve knotted the noose to hang from her words
that you’ve heard al the worst ones already
in the chambers of your head
that you’ve whispered this entire poem
over the rim of your plastic cup—
that you’re prepared to accept how she will be
sorry for ever having allowed you
to recite it, here and now—
Z. K. Gress, “How To Kiss a Beautiful Girl” (2013)