A short note of encouragement

To my dear little sister,
You are about to begin one of the hardest and most memorable times of your life. You'll have school and work and marching band, friends and family, young women's and loads of homework.

So if I could compile all the advice I have to give for making it through the unsure days ahead, it would be these.

I'm writing this for every day you come home exhausted but still have chores to do,
And for the late night essays.
This is for those days after band camp when your body is so sore, you don't know if you can get up the next day and do it all over again,
And for the days you find yourself doubting your faith.
For every night that you cry yourself to sleep.
This is for the moments that you feel so alone, 
and the moments you question your worth.
This is for you my darling little sister:

You are stronger than you think.
and you'll never know how strong you really are until you push yourself harder than you ever have before.
Don't you dare give up.
With every step, you'll be a little farther,
with every day, you'll be a little stronger,
Every season, a little better,
And every year, a little closer to your dreams.

This is for the day when you can look around yourself and say, "this is where I belong."
And I promise that day will come.
Because if nowhere else, you can always find your way back to family.
You must never forget how much I accept you and love you. No matter what you've been though or who you've become, you will always be my little sister.

And my best friend.

The Fall

If love is just a metaphor for wasting time with you,

If love is just another way to say "I want my memories to be your memories too",

If love is just another word for completely insane,

then I think I want to take the fall.

I want to take the fall with you.

Because my time is never better wasted anywhere but by your side

and our memories are sweeter when they're shared.

You drive me crazy

...in a good way...

and
I think
this is a risk worth taking.

#thisisreallife

#realtalk
I've been thinking lately, and I think I might actually want to grow up. I thought I didn't, but now, I think I do. I wanna grow up and go to school and learn new things and have dorm room with a roommate and go on random adventures at 2am and fall in love and get my heart broken and then really fall in love and know its real and (go ahead - call me Molly Mormon, I dare you) get married in the temple and have all my crazy older siblings be so proud of me and maybe my brothers will even come home to see us. I want to have adorable little babies and be the craziest pregnant lady and drive my husband mad and raise those little kids with all the love I can possibly muster. I want the hard times and the good times and to spend it all with a family that I love.

#realtalk
I used to hate this idea of growing up. And even more, I hated the idea of growing up to be the average "we met at BYU and got engaged two months later and now we have five kids" kind of Mormon girl. I hated it so much.

#realtalk
But if this is the life that will bring me happiness, if it will give me something to keep looking up to, then I want it. And if you think this makes me some crazy Molly Mormon, so be it. Because it's here that I've found happiness and safety and comfort. It's here that I've discovered who I want to be.

#realtalk
I've had my fair share of trials, don't be fooled by my facade.
And I'm real tired of life's sh- I mean, crap.

#realtalk
I just wanna be the best person that I can be.

#realtalk
I wish I was a kid again.

#realtalk
Maybe... maybe I don't wanna grow up yet.

Red, Blue, and Yellow Little You

I was a fairly unobservant kid.
Two years old with four siblings out of the house, I was awfully lonely in that big, old, red brick house with the trampoline.

Three years old, I was still unaware,
But I do remember the exact day we moved into that new, blue, one story, rainy day house with the big backyard.

And I sure do remember you.

Four years old, and I remember driving down to Utah to see you, my newborn niece.
I remember wondering at your jaundice yellow skin and your special little "light bed".
We stayed weeks longer than we should have, something was wrong. When we left, we brought home my new "baby sister"

and her little light bed.

Five years old, I really don't remember much
But I do remember that summer afternoon on our big blue porch, looking at you and making a promise, kind of to you but mostly to me, that I would watch you grow up every single day.

And I might not remember much,
But I sure do remember you,

and I could never forget what it felt like to finally have a friend.

To my dearest, Leland Ko

Four of your one line poems used to inspire four of my own.

Because what's a promise to reality?

But,
you promised?

"I just can't do this anymore..." you said.

Because you were done making stupid promises
and you were running out of lies.

I know your heart broke that night,
just like mine.
The difference was
when I whispered "I love you"
it was a promise.

But,
what's a promise to reality?

Because reality is:
you never really meant it.

Blue eyes have always been my thing, but you make brown eyes beautiful.

This one's for you.

That smile,
darling,
You were never boring.

Always talking,
so much to say,
so much to tell.
so much to get to know.
I'm drowning in you
and I love it so much.

You are so good,
too good.

Brown hair,
freckles,
so much going on in that head of yours.
I see you.
I see the boy behind those eyes.
and I love him.

because blue eyes have always been my thing,
but you make brown eyes so beautiful.

If I had said 'I love you' one last time, would you have stayed?

Though your mouth never said how much you loved me,

your lips moved slowly,

showing how much they cared for the taste of mine.

But they never did care for my eyes

or the way that I walked.

They never would look at me and think,

"What is going on in her pretty little head?"

They never cared for my favorite movies or for brunettes or for young crazy teenage kind of love.

They never even cared for my smile.

But if I had said 'I love you' one last time, would you have stayed?

or am I really as naive as I thought I was?

You finally came back only to leave me behind, so I hung out with your brother because he reminded me of you.

and I am a little bit lonely.

Because I gave you my everything

and all you left was a faint shadow for me to follow

aimlessly.

Like I'm looking for something,

Only now do I realize that it's definitely not you.

At least,

not anymore.

Because you finally came back

just to leave me behind.

So I hung out with your brother

because

he reminded me of you.

#stolen
To: Leland Ko
From: Kes
I can only hope that I interpreted these lines in a way that makes you proud.
Merry Christmas, friend :)

Discovery

(and that's good news for astrobiologists.)

Any last words? - Anything else?

Last words? 

I guess this is it. 

The "real" me?

I pray every morning to make someone's day

even if i'll never know it.

I still blow on dandelions

and wish for summer rain.

I couldn't live without my cartoons.

Four married siblings,

six nephews,

three nieces.

I love them all.

I'm gonna get ridiculed for this one,

but I'm a morning person,

Surprise!

I write in Evernote

because it's that much farther away from the publish button.

I am an ice cream enthusiast 

and too lazy to be healthy.

(but someday I'll probably regret it)

I work at a grocery store

with Bueford the cow.

I don't really like it there.

 I've kissed one boy ever.

But that doesn't matter.

When I was in fourth grade I wanted to be an author.

I don't know what I was thinking, because I never really loved writing.

I'm sorry to say, but I still don't have any confidence in that area.

I'm not an author,

I'm not even a writer.

But I do call myself an artist,

and I love what I do.

You might not know me, 

and I wouldn't really blame you if you didn't.

Sometimes i'm quiet,

and that's okay.

I'm not hiding

To be honest,

I never really was.

So,

The "real" me?

My name is Keli Elizabeth Capel.

And, as always, Spell Check says that's wrong.

But that's okay,

because I am so much more than my name.

Laughter Lines

Some people try so hard to hide their wrinkles.

But I never will,
because every moment with you was worth the creases around my smile.

Yes, I miss you.
Every day I think of you.
But when I look in the mirror, I don't see tear stained cheeks,
I see those laughter lines.

And when we're together again
We'll share our tears and our stories,
but best of all, we'll share our smiles.
The smiles that have seen so much more since we said goodbye.

I'll see you
in the future
when we're older.
When we are full
of stories to be told.

Cross my heart,

and hope to die,
I'll see you,
with your laughter lines.

A poem to a dear friend, inspired by the song Laughter Lines by Bastille.

This is your heart, can you feel it?

On the stage
or the field.
the lights
and the crowd.
that last note
ringing
in my ears.

Performing, 
loving what I can create.
Music,
art.
I am an artist.

Emotion
and passion filling my soul.

If I love this song enough, maybe you will too.

Expressing music, or what it feels like to create it, through words is just so hard to do.
But let me tell you,

Music is power.

My life and my love,

and most of all, my passion.

Music is my heart.

086160

A hundred blue tickets,
each completely unique and precisely in place.
I look at the number but the word says
stars.

A source of life and a symbol of hope.

The lonely, humble, giants of the universe.
Go too far and you've lost their light,
too close and you burn
Written so small and so simply on the back of a little blue ticket.
Yet it represents so much.
Light and guidance and protection and
hope.
As human beings we keep looking up,
from our darkest places we reach.
Not to the deep night sky, but to the stars that light it.

Our hope lies just beyond the horizon,

Somewhere within those stars.

So look up.

The darkness Is just an illusion.

How to Remember

1. Take lots of pictures. Even if you think you look ugly. (Because no matter how you look, the memory will always be beautiful.)

2. Don't be afraid to talk about your best moments. Even if no one else can really relate to it.

3. Just think. Even if it's just for that brief moment before you fall asleep.

4. Write. Even if you hate it, keep a journal and write every day. And don't you dare forget this step.

5. Don't forget to live in the moment, you're still alive, and the memories are still coming.

6. Express yourself, through art or music or anything, but make it mean something to you.

7. Do something, get out there and create your story. 

8. Cry. Because sometimes it's hard to leave things behind, and crying can be a stress reliever.

9. Fall in love with what you're doing. If you don't love what you do, you should probably change something. (Even if it's just your attitude.)

10. Listen to music or the rain or the people around you. Take it all in and let it fill you.

11. Just smile. It happened, it's over, it changed your life.

I'm Not Dumb

I'm scared right now

because the words aren't coming

and I need to have a post done by 11:59.

But every single word that I write sounds cheesy and dumb and has been written before.

I'm lost 

and confused!

and I feel like an idiot.

My greatest fear in life: achieved.

over and over again.

Because, yeah, I'm afraid of heights,

and I'm afraid of spiders and wasps.

I'm afraid of kidnappers in the night

and the monster beneath my bed.

I'm pretty scared of the dark

and i'm really scared of rejection.

But by far i'm most afraid of being thought of as dumb.

I'm so afraid that as I pour my freaking heart out on this blog you're laughing at what I have to say

or that the only sticky note you'd leave in my journal says "uhhh..." like no one'd ever get what i'm writing. (oh wait, that already happened.)

I'm afraid that i'll get the question wrong

or that i'll make an incorrect claim

or spell something wrong.

Because all I've ever wanted was to be smart

and for everything to be easy.

But i'm not quite there yet.

So please just be a little patient with my stupid comments

and my misspeled wurds.

Because I'm working on it,

and I promise that I'm not dumb,

just a little scared.

Find Paris

What is Paris really? 

Because you call it inspiration,

creativity,

knowledge,

even participation.

But I call it love,

which, I guess, is really just all of those things combined into one word.

My Words

I am a collector of words.

But now my jar is full.
and I have to share them, but

It's hard 

because I'm selfish. 

These are my words.
No one understands them quite like I do.
That's why they're mine.
I'm not sure how to write in such a way that they'll make sense to you,

but I'll try,
and my jar will empty,

then I'll fill it once more.

I'll write you a poem if you'll write me a song.

When I think about you, the words just don't come.
And I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one.
Because somehow, after all you've done for me, you just don't inspire me.
And I don't know why.
But maybe it's because it would take more than this complex arrangement of the same 26 letters over and over again to describe how I feel.
Because to try and explain my love would be a crime.
We have something good.
We have something special.
Lets never let go.

Broken

My mind is broken.
Shattered,
ripped apart,
torn to shreds,

unusable.

I  am  broken

Broken by thoughts
of could bes
and would have beens.
nearly hads, 
and wish I hadnts.

Oh the regrets
the almosts.

The would've dones,
and could have dones,
and probably should've dones.

The pieces of myself left to find.

I am made of mistakes

and crazy adventures.

Regrets and fulfillment.

broken pieces and lots of duct tape.

The things I've learned are worth the pain,

because I am broken  alive.

Keep

When you feel like you're broken
and you've done all that you know how.
When you're out of ideas
and creativity has left you dry.

There are few things left to do at that point.

But I say,
keep discovering
and keep creating.
Draw small
and write slowly.
Keep loving
and keep going.
Keep feeling
and keep knowing.
Play soft music
and read short stories.
Keep trying
and failing
and keep starting over.
Keep writing in cursive
and doing what you love.
But most of all, don't forget, to keep being human.

Because you are real.

The less the better.

And I want to burst into tears with every word.

So let's keep this short.

Happy Birthday to Me

I'm sorry but no.

I

am

really

just not

ready for

this crazy life

ahead of me.

Don't make me 

blow out 18

candles.

Please  don't make me

pretend to know what

I'm doing. Please don't

make me get a desk job

or fall in love too soon.

I'm pretty sure that you
forgot to tell me how to
pay taxes or vote for the
president. What is HOA
 anyway?  don't give me
that cake. I don't  want
your cards full with cash
 Where are my crayons?
Where  are my coloring
 pages? My stickers and
glitterglue? I'm really not
ready  to be all  on  my
own. I still need to be an
 astronaut, and travel the
world. Or did you think
those dreams died with
the  flames of  candles
from birthdays long past?

Don't Say That Word

Why are you so afraid to say it?

Its not poisonous.

I'm gonna say it.

I'm gonna say it.

Deep breath...

Here goes nothing...

I Love you.

phew.

There. I said it.

You better appreciate that.

Because, well, i'm not gonna say it if I don't mean it.