lyssaeds lyssaeds

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Alyssa  📍MI

I always loved watching my boys. Whether they were yelling laughing crying singing dancing farting boys. Whether they knew it or not, I was always watching, admiring, learning from them. My two very best boys. The boys I can call at 4AM and without question or judgement would be there. The boys who have held my hand through mean bullies and long winters and tattoos and first heartbreak. The boys who ruled my little world and I was their princess and we were never truly alone because I had my boys. They aren't separate in my mind, they are one. Cooper + Jacob. And now as Jacob holds my hand I feel the emptiness in my other hand in the space between my fingers right where yours fit perfectly.

This was a gorgeous, promising day. We were on one of our typical crazy adventures, of course. We were hiking through the woods, about to go bridge-jumping on Jacob's birthday. You wanted to do something exciting, daring, and fun for him. Right before we're about to jump you two started going on one of your little tangents again about your future business, Coop's Garden. Jacob was to be your right-hand man in it all. The way you two look at each other when either of you always made sure to look into each other's eyes, to always let the other know you were really paying attention, that you cared wholeheartedly. Right after these pictures were taken some blue jays started to attack us so we had to book it, running away in giggle fits because our lives felt too weird to be true sometimes. A never-ending story of love.
I am choosing out what clothes to wear tomorrow and printing out pictures and reviewing the speech Jacob, Alex, Breanna, Cj and I wrote last night and I am broken. I just want to watch my boys one last time.

Dear family and friends,

There will be a celebration of life for Cooper Kean.

Services will be as follows:

Place: LJ Griffin Funeral Home

Address: 7707 N Middlebelt Rd Westland, MI 48185

Visitation: March 14 Wednesday 3pm-9pm

Memorial Service: March 15 Thursday 11am

Cooper Kean. You are my shelter. You are my home. You are my best friend, you are my family, you are my soulmate. In my mind you are smiling, pure, running free on the Grant elementary playscape chasing our clan of best friends around at 4 years old. In my mind you are staring at the meteor shower northern Michigan sky, 11 years old pointing to constellations as you held mine and Alexia's hand, whispering the wonders of the Universe like a prayer. In my mind the morning sunlight is seeping onto the plants you call friends, you are making me my coffee just how I like it, you are finally 21 so naturally we're hungover and you have bedhead and dried drool on your face and you catch me watching you and smile in a way you had just for me. In my mind, you are kicking rocks in the distance, the glow of the street light illuminating your 15-year old rugged figure as you skip towards me in the spooky hours of the night where it feels like the whole world is asleep; we've snuck out for the millionth time this summer, young rascals high off of rebellion, younghood, and each other, you piggy-back me to my second home, your house, because you'd never let my feet get tired if you could help it. In my mind, my legs are intertwined with Cj's and Garrett's and my arms are wrapped around Breanna and McKenzie as you build the fort around us to perfection (as usual) fluffing the pillows and making sure we each have a blanket-we're 18 in your basement and I see you've hung up the "believe in yourself" unicorn poster I got you as a "thank you for always taking care of me" present. You are giggling your famous "he he heee" giggle and showing us our video cassette movie options. Most likely Lion King, Forrest Gump, or Mulan. I am the last one awake, and the sound of all of our breathing together healed us as a lullaby. In my mind, you are jumping up and down relentlessly on a pogo-stick, howling to the void with innocent 9 year old laughter. I already miss the way our laughs sound together. In my mind, it's a few weeks ago and you are tucking my hair behind my ear. This is the last time I will ever hold you. What I failed to realize is you held on as tightly as I held onto you.

vulnerable: capable of being physically or emotionally wounded; open to attack or damage; exposure, openness, proneness, sensitivity, receptivity, risk, susceptibility
ps these are my favorite photos i have taken of bree elise

a sacrifice of self love,
a scene of romeo & juliet but with your selves,
a ritual of shedding old skin to become born again...

If you want to kill yourself, kill what you don’t like. I had an old self that I killed. You can kill yourself too, but that doesn’t mean you got to stop living.

Breanna and I spontaneously traveled to Chicago with the purpose of creating; a new environment to learn from, people to experience, emotions to be released.
When we arrived in Chicago to our hotel, we began to ponder what hotels really mean to us. They are like the random oasis of wanderers. They are this strange in-between, like twilight. They exist in this almost Vegas-type atmosphere, where you are in the middle of the desert and then there's this tangible place of secrets and mystery. You are in the middle of nowhere and then quite suddenly, you're not. Like an odd trick of Time. People strip their skin of their day to day selves and become someone else, a different version of themselves. They allow themselves to escape reality. The rabbit hole. We gained inspiration for this collage of photos from a variety of influences like Erica Jong, American Horror Story, Quentin Tarantino, Alice in Wonderland, Chuck Palahniuk, The Twilight Zone...we are not quite sure what it means other than an opening up of the seven deadly sins, a rawness of the demons we carry inside us. Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth.
"A bed, a telephone, the cord
to the world
beyond the womb...
Here lovers meet, have met,
will meet again behind different faces
while the icy pictures
look on,
seeing nothing.

Hotel rooms see nothing.

Business transacted,
prostitutes killed,
marriages silently shaken;
what happens here
is off the record;
there is no record
when the sheets
are changed
every night
for other guests.
& you my darling
my lover, my reader,
why are you hungering so,
why are you opening
abysses in yourself
before you rush off
to the next appointment?

Eternity is just
a hotel room-
deluxe or seedy
as the fates allow,
lonely as the loneliest
one-night stand,
& with no telephone.

Or is it the body?
Is the body the hotel room after all?
O let us inhabit it amply, crying
& screaming & embracing
before we

check out." - Erica Jong

More and more, it feels like I'm doing a really bad impersonation of myself.

do you ever find yourself repeating accidental mantras in your head through your days?

i promised not to be like this,
i promised not to be like this.

do you ever find yourself repeating accidental mantras in your head through your days?
what defines purity?
sin does not exist
sin does not exist
i exist, i exist, i exist.

do you ever find yourself repeating accidental mantras in your head through your days?

eyes that could save me,
eyes that could save me.

room 222 by @blondyb

sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries, and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

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