Tag: Sara Ritchey

By Sara Ritchey 

Before I wrote this, I remembered the time you told me how much you loved the rhythm of my heartbeat — and when we hugged, you pressed yourself into me; our heartbeats colliding, dancing under moonlit skies. And when bright shooting stars flew across the night, you always told me you had everything you’d ever need.

Before I wrote this, I sat memorizing your mesmerizing eyes and got lost somewhere in between blue and always. Your eyes took me to blurry places, where I couldn’t make out my own goddamn name. You made the words in my head jumble; a jungle of tangled letters, until I could only make out three words. I love you.

Before I wrote this, I realized I love you’s could be lies. Trampled on words with muddy shoes until they are so far in the dirt, they begin to decompose.

You see, before I wrote this, I repeated it to myself so much it lost it’s meaning. I love you, I love you, I love you, I — it played over in my head like a scratched record. Your words echoing off the sides of my head, until I had to slip in headphones to drown out the sound of your voice.

Before I wrote this I scratched my skin, where your fingertips had traced. Lines of red paint fell down my arms as I continue to scratch trying to get any sign of you off of my skin.

I remembered the time you engraved words into my bones, and I let you, being sure to lay still as you took your time. You liked digging every letter deeper than the last, and when I winced you shrugged it off, continuing your work of art. When you were finally done, you let me see your masterpiece. It was a picture of another girl. Maybe in a different time, you said. Maybe if you were anyone else.

Sara Ritchey is a Freshman at Barbara Ingram

By Sara Ritchey

March 20 –
Extraterrestrial Abductions Day
Proposal Day

Get yourself a ring man, cause today is National Proposal Day. But before you propose to your beautiful wife, be sure to check the sky. It would be a terrible day to remember if you were abducted by some little green guys before she can say “yes.”

April 14 –
Look Up At The Sky Day
Ex-Spouse Day
International Laughing Day

April 14th, you can look up at the blue skies and maniacally laugh. Besides the awkward stares, I’d assume this one could be pretty fun, but before you get too comfy, you may need to grab yourself an ex-spouse and drag them through this with you. That is absolutely what you should be doing on a beautiful April day in my opinion.

May 13 –
The only Friday the 13th in 2016
“Blame Someone Else” day

For me, Friday the 13th was always filled with silly theories like don’t look in the mirror too long or you will be frozen in time, or if you see a black cat you could be cursed with bad hair days (or something like that) forever. It’s quite alright this year if you see a black cat though, because you can just accuse someone else, since this Friday the 13th is also National Blame Someone Else Day.  Friday the 13th, 2016 is the date that keeps on giving.

Sara Ritchey is a Freshman at Barbara Ingram

By Sara Ritchey

We were seven when you sang “Happy Birthday” to me all by yourself, holding a purple balloon in your left hand and my pinky in your right. The sky turned foggy, so we released the balloon and you accidentally let go of my finger. You apologized after I slipped my hand back into my pocket. You didn’t mean to break your promise, and I knew that I could trust you.

We were nine when you asked me if I wanted to go to the park with you and your family. I tried to impress you by doing the monkey bars all by myself, but I landed on my stomach, but your mother and father didn’t seem to notice. You rubbed my back gently and I realized that even after I caught my breath, I couldn’t help but lose it again when I looked at you.

We were twelve when you started skipping class. I left notes in your locker during study hall. They were filled with poetry and things that made you smile, because you said you liked how I could turn my thoughts into words. I always told you how much I loved to see you smile — I’d do anything to make it show. You grabbed my wrist softly and told me to stop worrying. You told me that you were okay. I tried not to worry, but when I hugged you, you smelled like smoke and too much cologne. It was hard not to worry when I saw you hiding away your pack of cigarettes when we came in from lunch.

We were thirteen when you kissed me in the back of your parents’ car the night it broke down. Your parents were in the gas station, and I watched your eyes from the seat next to me and they seemed to lighten, from a dark sky to a subtle ocean. You put your hand on my thigh and told me you loved me. We were sitting at that damn gas station for over two hours, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to say it back. I wanted to. I swear, I wanted to.

We were fourteen when I had to visit you pale-faced and breathless. I never got to tell you how proud of you I was, or how I regretted not hugging you longer; not loving you longer. I didn’t know that kissing you goodnight translated to a final goodbye. I didn’t know that touching your chest meant feeling your heartbeat pitter-patter for the last time. I didn’t know that when I failed to say I love you, I would never get the chance to say it again. I should have loved you a little longer.

Sara Ritchey is a Freshman at Barbara Ingram