Three days late to love

My Mom has always taught me that the good comes with the bad.

And love is the prime example of that.

The feeling you get when you know someone deeply cares about you, it's unmatched.

But once someone is done "loving" you, they hate you all of a sudden.

Love, one of the best things in the world, brings out the worst in people.

And when you're 3 days late to love, the roses are dead, leaving only the thorns.

The $2 box of chocolates is past it's expiration date, and so is that note that cute girl wrote to you.

Mom also said you get second chances if you're fortunate, but with love you're lucky to get the first.

Wandering streets with lonely faces

Everyone's always on the lookout for the new thing.

Is seems Paris is for old timers.

Whether it's San Fransisco, LA or Rome, it doesn't matter.

I'm on the outskirts of Paris, and every day seems to be a rainy one.

I occasionally see the faces of Courtney Rome and Jusy Korra, but they've kept up wih Paris much more than me.

I'm not sure what my next city will be.

It could still be Paris, or Buenos Aires or Wellington or maybe even Boise.

But just like Paris, I don't choose the city.

But whatever it is, I just want to hurry up and find out.

The thought of having to wait for 2ish months is killing me.

True Worth

My house is full of books, and probably 10% of them have been read.

I'm just hoping I'm not one of those books gathering dust, taking up space.

I want to leave my mark.

I want my family, friends, and others to remember me.

We will remember Michael Jordan for being the greatest basketball player ever, Lady Gaga for how weird she is, and Donald Trump for thinking he can fix the country.

Heck, even Yoda, a puppet, is more famous then I could ever dream of.

Me? 

What will I be remembered for?

I will remember things about you, but what will you remember me for? 

Maybe crying during my talk in church, the skinny kid who doesn't have much to say, or the hyper-competitive guy who usually doesn't win?

We live in a world where "greatness" is defined by followers, likes and comments.

But, just because 2971 people follow you, that doesn't make you a good person.

True worth, is sitting with the lonely kid at lunch, listening to your friends when you would rather do anything else, and writing notes to your siblings after a rough day.

And true worth is more important than how many likes you get.

The life we are used to is almost over.

We've applied for college's, and some of us have already started on our mission papers.

Once we get to college and our missions, we will make friends and learn to be trusted solely off our character.

I won't be remembered for basketball, weirdness(at least I hope), or being the most powerful puppet in the universe.

I'm not sure what I will be remembered for, but I sure hope it's my true worth.

*This class has been my favorite since day 1. Thanks for reading and commenting on my blog, it means more than you think. And thanks Nelson for the good time*

Spencer Smith 

Pure Solitude

Slowly being rocked back and forth,
With the wind shaking my seat, we inch up the mountain.

My little brother won't stop complaining.

At last, we get to the top of the lift.
It's peaceful up top.
A place of pure solitude.

Once they are finally ready, my parents say my favorite words "you go ahead. Meet us at 4". It was 8:30.

At last. Freedom.

After bombing down a run, I head up to the real summit.

After trying to go down a certain run and being stopped by the ski patrol and a 10 minute explination of how dangerous avalanches are, I went down it anyway.

Dodging trees, flying off rocks and sharp turns has turned into my winter.

I caused a few minor avalanches, but they didn't hurt anyone.

After a day filled with this and no lunch, seeing 2 skiers on the routes I did, it was time to call it a day.

I escaped with only 2 bruises, some scratches, broken goggles and a cracked helmet.

So it was definitely a success.

I forgot to remember

I forgot that I'm supposed to remember the most important things, and it's just starting to come back.

I remember when the only worry I had was whether the top branches would hold me.

I remember when girls had cooties,

I remember when I used to figure skate.

I can remember that 2+2=4, but I still have to think about 2+0.

I remember crying at the end of where the red fern grows.

I remember when my crush said hi, and I forgot to say hi back.

I remember my first airplane ride.

I remember falling 50 feet out of a tree with a scratch #blessed

I don't remember the first back flip I did, or the first peak I reached or my first pair of running shoes.

But I do remember the back flip in front of my date, my favorite mountain and my lucky racing spikes.

I remember all the pains of loneliness, sadness, and hopelessness.

I remember the feeling of forgetting to do my homework.

I remember my first snow and the peaceful feeling it brought.

I remember my first time skiing, and how bad I was but I haven't stopped.

I remember my very first trail run, wondering why I hadn't gone before.

I remember my grandpa even though he died when I was 3.

I remember every mean thing my brother said to me.

And 

I 

Will

Remember

YOU

Dear Eva Peron

I still don't know if it's pronounced Eva or Ava, but anyways your blog is one of the best. All of you have read her blog because it's "famous" and stuff.

When I first pulled your name I got super excited. I mean, who wouldn't? You have made top 5 3 times and you have a bunch of awesome quotes and poems. Your worst post is better than my best. So props to you for being one of the best on here.

These teenage years, they're open late. I don't mean supermarket late, were talking barefoot jaywalking, windows down, loud music, whispered voices because mom's asleep

Late.

But mom can be harder to avoid then the current middle east.

And my nuclear war head heart has been beating a little harder lately.

If I fall, look for the crash, because NO ONE will be left standing.

And a quiet exchange will be culmination of something quite extraordinary.

Time is my greatest enemy,

Except, your enemy isn't supposed to be something you want more of.

Now for the explanation. I took some of my favorite quotes by you and a few quotes from the real Eva Peron, and tried to make a poem about it. So basically a grand theft poetry of you and the real Eva. Sorry if it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I just think in a different way than most.

I don't know you that well Brooklyn, other then we read each other's blogs, we follow each other on Instagram, and one of my friends took you to prom last year. But you seem super cool. You're writing is amazing and I can tell you write all of it straight from your heart. Your writing makes me think hard. It almost always has a deeper meaning(whether you've intended that or not). All of my posts have had one and they're really hard to understand. 

I should probably stop rambling about how good your stuff is. It's probably getting old. But thanks for your writing.

Mountain Nomad

Err I mean Spencer Smith.

But you can call me spence.

Umm

Sometimes it's hard to find a good first line,

And so is getting up for the journal jam.

It's like the feeling inside, when you know there's fireworks, but your heads so heavy you can't look up.

You know you won't regret it, but that first step is hard.

And so life goes on

My friend just visited church.com and called that good for the day.

My friend was content, but it hurt me.

And pain is a flower most people pull from their garden.

Life is hard guys.

But some days I'm just pretending to shiver.

The most important lesson I've learned is being happy is a choice.

I see life as a journey, and I'm just trying to fall in love with mine.

I suggest you do too.