Pep Talk

And who am I writing for if not myself; why do I try to impress when I am left with a hole

Your heart should be your work, your legacy should be what you leave behind, and your passion should glow:

In your eyes and in your smile. Your hands penning words that will convey a million meanings that otherwise would’ve been unknown.

This generation doesn’t need you to be another ineffective voice. It needs you to be whole and uplifting, breathtaking inspiration and admiration of human kind. Also accuser.

You weren’t meant to be silent.

You’re name is Gabby, for crying out loud.

So use it, girl.

Cry Out.

Be loud.

And write. Write whatever your heart desires.

Who cares if they leave or stay, some of them never loved you anyway.


Hook, Line, and Sink Her.

So this is something I’ve been wanting to post for awhile. Something I used to be scared to talk about, used to be embarrassed and some may even call it a testimony, but here goes.

In case you didn’t know, I’m a believer. Jesus Christ is my Savior and I’m undeservingly blessed and loved beyond my own comprehension. With that being said, with you supposedly knowing my view on things, formalities I guess are out of the way.

I was saved when I was five, on a bench on the playground by my kindergarten teacher Mrs. Marcacci. When I was five I had a best friend, our birthdays were only eight days apart and our names both began with G. When I was eight, she left the school.

My life kind of floundered for a bit; I wasn’t close with anyone else in my class (I went to a private school so that’s like 20 kids) and the next year I hung out with two boys because I figured girls were petty. It was a rough year, being nine, losing my grandpop and feeling alienated. You don’t think people understand what it’s like losing someone, but it’s something you never forget, even to this day, almost ten years later, it’s something I can never forget.

And so began the pattern of “friend-hopping”; jumping from one group of friends who would push me away or I’d leave and then to another. And through all this, around the time I was 12, I fell under the foolish notion that in order to be loved and accepted I had to have a boyfriend. Let’s just say I found that “acceptance” in the wrong people.

Which brings me to when I was 13 and I got myself into the worst situation I have ever been through in my life. I only had what I considered real friends on the internet. I put my faith in some kind people and some mean people. I was naive and was easily manipulated. I thought I fell in love several times over. And when one, who was also my best friend, walked out, there was someone there who filled his gap and led me on the wildest adventure of my life.

I lied to my mom for a year and a half. I broke off from reality, lived for his attention, his “affection”, his friendship, all through a phone. And then I broke; I told my mom, she was understanding (God knows why) and I continued my “relationship” if you can call it that. Until July 25th, when he turned out to be to a girl, who had been lying to me for 2 years.

And people think being cat-fished is something funny, but when you are 14, and someone pulls the rug out from under you, your heart drops, breaks/shatters, and you don’t know who you are, what you did, where you went wrong. And thats when God reaches out for you.

I swear He held me in days where I could not stand, and when I cried every night for practically two months, out of grief and anger and frustration, He pushed me through.

The next year I was changed. I had seen God and to this day I can remember what that feels like. I had a crush, somehow got over that crush, texted a jerk, and somehow managed up in a relationship with my best friend that’s over 2 and half years strong.

That’s my story. And as I go through it, I wouldn’t change a thing.

I talk about it so people understand me better, and I don’t know if they’ll see me differently. I always get mad when girls can’t get over a guy, but I hold grudges against those who use me, because hey: been there, done that.

And I don’t want people to pity me. But I want you to know, that lying and using me are two things I have a hard time letting go of and the one kid I need to understand that, probably won’t even read this (ha).

But for those who do, whether you know me or not, I want you to understand one thing: once I let go and I learned to live (with and without love) I gained a family that I am entirely blessed to have and want them to know how much.

For all the memories:
And I wish I could sit each one of them down and tell them. Especially the boys because gosh, I love you all so very much: Nick, Dan, Eric I., Tim, Scott, and John especially. (Aaron, it’s understood). To the girls who constantly picked me up when I was down: Mack (alwaysalwaysALWAYS), Kara, Liz, Sarah, Rachel, and Shea.

To the ones I’ve hurt and who have hurt me: I’m sorry and I forgive you. To the ones I’ve never gotten along with (Andrew) I love you, too. To the ones who were there and have seen me grow whether they know me or not, thank you.

I just want to show I’m proof that your story doesn’t have to define you, and there’s always room to grow. But if I’ve learned anything it’s this: don’t forget the ones who held you up along the way.

Nico’s Plea

And everyday I fall in love with her; all over again
Constantly wanting to scream out a confession
But she doesn’t remember when

Because that would be easier
But things aren’t easy for me
Never have been; never will be

I guess that’s what I get
For a ferryman of death,
Why should I expect anything less?

She’s not even real it seems
Death took her from reality
And now she’s simply here with me

Though she forgets
I mean, that’s what got us into this mess
Not only her eye but her step
That let her fall to her death

But she doesn’t think that’s true
Doesn’t want to believe something so cruel
Could take her, break her
Shake her until she’s nothing left
Leaving nothing more than dew

So her angers out on me
She doesn’t know who I am
Or what we could be

And I don’t deny her this
I pretend that I don’t miss
The way we were
The day before
She met death’s merciless kiss

Instead I watch her ponder what
Watch as tries to think it through

Watch as she turns towards me
Whisper words I cannot speak

“I love—”
But I can’t form the “you”.

Carry On



Sometimes you cry because you’re broken,

And sometimes you cry because you can.

But life goes on… I promise you, life goes on.

Sometimes you cry because you’re happy,

And sometimes you cry because you’re sad.

But life goes on…Oh, I promise you, life goes on.

Sometimes you cry at a standstill,

And sometimes you cry because that’s all that’s left to do.

But life goes on…Darling, I promise you, life goes on.

And when those tears become a puddle

The wind freezing the unfallen on your cheeks

Maybe the sun will shine a little

As I hope to hear you speak:
“’But life goes on’ she promised…I suppose life does go on.”

Poem for CW: Feedback?

How I Wonder Where You Are

I watch

From clouds on high

Legs dangling

Chucks clicking together

Laces untied;

Strings hanging, hanging, hanging

Like the hope I should have held onto

But instead

I watch her

As she pushes back her hair

On some city street

Far, far below

Wind whipping around her

Causing the skirt of her dress to twirl

Red and white polka dots

Dance against her snow white skin

Her feet stay together

Short black boots

Bounce up and down

As heel touches ground

Then lifts

Even though she’s not moving

She hasn’t been moved, not really;

Not in a long time.

But that’s why she’s here.

To make her

Move (on)…

(Move forward).

She lifts her hand to call a cab



Thin fingers, nails painted black.

The yellow beasts run rampant

Past her

Toward something else

Her hair releases from the perch

Behind her ear

Pearls glistening on them

And she waits

But not for him to see her though he does

And with just one look

The boy has fallen in love with her

He knows it,

As cheesy and cliché as it sounds

But he’s walking toward her

And she stands still,

Hand raised, eyes closing

As she exhales a sigh

And a whistle pierces the air

Causing her to turn

A cab to stop

Him to drop his two fingers from his mouth

As she nods her thanks and moves toward

The vehicle as he

Grabs the door and holds it

Open for her to get

In to something she isn’t prepared for because

He’s said hello

And they’ve exchanged names

Lips moving, yet I can’t hear a sound

But he’s getting in after her and I push myself

To a stand before I begin pacing

Debating whether or not to trust him

To like him

For her.

She emerges from the bedroom

He’s asleep and none the wiser

Darkness has fallen

And drinks had been poured

His house is huge, she notices

Bare feet on wood floors

She glides amidst the stark

Furniture, leather chairs,

Couches, and a glass table

Toward a telescope

That sits near a big bay window.

The city’s on fire

Each building twinkling

Yet her eyes are on the sky

Hands gripped around the cool metal as she

Adjusts the lens, and looks through

The eye piece at the stars

The universe and the

Clouds above where I

Sit on my cloud-made sill

Feet dangling, laces hanging

Like hopes I should have held onto

Instead of leaving her

My baby sister

Fending for herself in the city;

Unmoving, unswaying

Yet searching

For me

The brother that she let go

That the beasts took

So cruelly

When he moved to the city.

But her brother’s gone

In more ways than one

And he’s here


She keeps searching

The stars

The heavens

The city

Looking for whatever

Answer she can find

Trying not to believe

She’s alone:


Onto hope.