Saturday, January 3, 2015

It's hard to be friends with people that make you feel guilty.

Normal guilt, first of all. Talking too much, taking too much. Feeling like you owe someone is hard to get through. To be friends, people require a certain amount of balance. You can pay someone back, talk a little less, listen a little more; but what about when when its deeper than that?

Guilt sometimes springs from hurting people. That's why being in a relationship makes things horrible after the relationship ends. Personally, I hate endings, so I usually try to deny their existence by pretending that feelings and happiness and success grow exponentially and moments amass in strings that go on forever. Who needs an ending when the world just keeps turning around you anyway?

In these instances, however, there are two people that decide how an ending goes. "We can still be friends." Okay, wait and see what the definition of that friendship really is. True platonic care for the other, or subtly avoiding interaction?

Okay, whatever. People are weird. They can have complicated relationships woven out of falsehood and sunshine and chewed gum and paper clips and be extremely happy. So two people, after sharing something beyond secrets, return to being "friends". They see each other and act as if they have never witnessed the the flecks of rare earth metals in each other's eyes and never laid gentle fingertips in the frame of the other's jaw. So what, right?

No. Because there was an ending.

So every time you see this person you associate them with the pain of the ending. It's not necessarily that you even hate this person. (Side note: I don't hate anybody. I am pretty sure that I can sympathize with any human being. I will defend anybody and everybody, because I hurt when other people hurt, as simple as that.) This person just happens to have held you and talked to you and shared in your affections/affectations. But suddenly you can't do that anymore, and that's alright because you agreed that you no longer had any feelings for them anymore, but still, to touch and want to be touched is human, and the last time you touched them is the last time they broke your heart or you broke theirs. It is JUST SIMPLY what it is.

So I think about that mutual touching and mutual pain. For me, all of that is embodied in a lanky boy with a loud voice and animation beyond your wildest dreams. And though he was the one who drew the line and ended it all and broke me in pieces when I was going to end it anyway; I broke him before that. There was a point where I told him that I didn't want to touch, I wanted to talk. And then he sat and stared at his phone until I had to leave.

So I see him and my guilt takes out a trowel and cement and lays a brick wall until I lose my oppertunity to just say Hello. And I see the girl with pretty cheeks and curly hair and the way she glows when he talks to her and I want to say "Be careful. Because he is a sweet little puppy dog and he will chase any bone you throw, but don't forget to speak kindly or he'll think you're mad. Don't forget to walk him so he knows you care. And don't be alarmed if a year later he wants to get back together again, and then ends up with your friend for a month. Don't be alarmed when you don't get mad; because you don't want to kiss him, you just want to smile because he's weird and goofy and he used to make you feel perfect."

Guilt is circumstancial. You can let it build the Great Wall of Not Actual Friendship or you can use it as incentive to make it up to that person. To talk to them and move on with your life. It's that easy. Not as easy as it sounds, but always easier than you think.

Monday, December 9, 2013


I promised more on my life-changing camp, however, so much more started to change my life.

Junior year has been rough in ways I expected:
Zero to four AP courses, college, more boys, auditions, getting a job
And very, very rough in ways I could never imagine.

To truly care about somebody is always strange because it tends to always be conditional (especially when the love isn't returned). "Yes, I love him, but if he asked me out I would say yes." Well, I'm calling bullshit. Bullshit on life, on relationships, even on emotion as of now. Though I hate to say so, just because you get older doesn't mean you leave the problems your younger self had behind. Just because you get stronger, you will not be unbreakable. And that's the way it is.

I have had the worst autumn of my life, mostly because I have been so aware of how awful it has been. I won't go listing reasons, but I shall list what I learned.
Your best friends may not stay the best.
Money trouble is unavoidable, but it's something you need to face up front.
Just because you  love a person so much does not mean said person will love you back.
Being self-pitying sucks.
Putting a strong face forward can achieve things.
Accepting only the good and not the bad in people doesn't usually work out. It's all or nothing.
Never assume people have feelings for you.

I find myself questioning why so much has been laid down on me all at once. I pray, tears on my face, on my knees beside my bed and ask what will happen, why must you do this, what is it for, give me strength, I want to move on. Sometimes I feel happier inside afterwards, but since relationships with people are what have truly been testing me, all it takes is for me to a see a couple together, a person's face, a text message, a tweet, a gift given to me in the past to make me vomit. And that's not fair. That's not fair at all.

If someone I knew read this blog, they might have no idea where any of it was coming from. Well, see, I have friends who tell me my face is like an open book, that I can be read easily. I beg to differ. Sometimes you need to hide your anger, your mistrust, your fire and your fury from people, so that they can stay happy, so that they see you as happy. And so I have, from many people. I have vocalized my complaints, but they see no raw hurt from me. They see no grief. I am a supreme actor. And so I have kept many of my friends.

But God, all the stupidity that has gone into my life. One hope destroyed one after another, and what for? What dirty misdeeds have I committed to deserve such a loud voice in my temples crying syllables of anguish and anxiety, fretting not only over the pain of being disregarded by boys she's cared for, boys who find happiness in other eyes, but for the unwritten essay, the unsung song, every attempt she has made at success that has failed?

Well, I'll tell you.


I learned how to write. How to write with such vigor words begin to pour out of the pen like blood out of a chest wound, in rivulets and tears and then finally such unguarded rivers that every dam in the world ever made may be broken.
I learned how to strive. How to rush at a goal with passion unbeknownst to man and also how to move it forward with terrifying measures of equal doubt and assurance. How to strive untilsomething is beautiful.
I learned how to laugh. Not only how to laugh; how to laugh in the face of the Devil himself. How to allow an aura of tolerance in order to fight the evil that is misinterpretation and temptation and hate.

And finally, I learned what I need.

I need to work. Put in the time. I need to focus. Zero in on my target. I need to sing, for singing solves many of my problems.

I need to stop falling for people in minuscule instances that warp my brain and leave me for dead eight months later.
 I need to stop putting my faith in people who do not care for me and instead put my faith in God and in myself. Because that is how one learns to survive.

And lastly, I have learned I need to write. The nightmares I faced for so long have turned into snow. Flurries and patches that provide cold peace from the hot pain I felt before. Catharsis in words, snowy white wings that can carry me farther away from stupidity and closer to the sun. The sweet, sweet golden sun. I find myself swaying as I write as if to music . . . and I realize that this is often times my music. I found myself unable to write in the dark; so I sure as hell will write in the day.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

July 15 (I wrote this then but didn't have time to post it. I actually left today, so I have much more to say that will come later)


Every day here gets better and better. I came to this camp and suddenly I was on a different plane of the universe, surrounded by new people  and new places and new experiences. Being me, I was expecting much more of the situation than I should have; however, I was surprised. Everything is wonderful. Everything surpasses those expectations I had. I'm even surprised at myself, learning a new thing every day.

I made friends within the first day and a half. A group of five, with three of them being in my disciplinary course. We meet up in different places on the campus to make music, write, get some food, and just have fun. My friends are ones that I could imagine having in real life (isn't it strange that technically this is real life too, but that phrase fits so well?).

Dorm life is totally my thing. I like having a little unit of people, with a place for everyone and everything to be. It suits me.

As for things I'm learning, maybe I'm still figuring that out. I learned that being social can be wonderful. I learned that seven hours of sleep can get me through a hard day. I learned that I don't always have such a developed Theory of Mind as I thought. I learned that guys decrease in stupidity if you let them be your friends.

The world I'm living in right now is almost perfect. I can see the horizon of land on the edge of my vision though, only one more week left. I plan to make the most of it.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Obsession rhymes with Depression

Have you ever given yourself over to something, or become obsessed?

I have. The majority of my friends have. I would say that every single person I interact with on tumblr or instagram has. It's incredible.

I love TV shows and movies and books and music and pictures. I live for media. It swallows my up every day, as I keep up with shows on Hulu, watch old ones on Netflix, live blog on Tumblr, make fan art on Polyvore, and post and search for pictures on Instagram. These shows make me feel, as they are meant to. The entire point of a TV show is to have viewers, and to get them you have to give to them. You know what they give me? Hope. Pure unadultered lust for a better, exciting life. They give me oppertunities to feel when my life doesn't. And honestly, that's wonderful sometimes. I love to feel. Having feelings is the best.

But this often harms my already perilous mental stability. My anxiety and dread turns into depression. I see nothing but gray clouds, even when looking at a blue sky. It makes my ups short and high and my downs long and painful.

I came to an epiphany today. I read The Silver Linings Playbook, a truly beautiful book. I finished it in about five hours, which is pretty good because I have major focus issues. After finishing it, I was happy. I was full of incredible passion. I realized that I was holding so many of my own feelings.

I realized that I can be better than any fictional character. I have held more joy in my heart than any of the ones that are played by actors. I feel ups and downs and you can touch me and my skin is warm and alive and I don't script my stupid words, I THINK of my stupid words. I'm purely me and I can have breakthroughs and be anything I want and still remain as I am. I don't need an author to change my life and give me friends and adventures. I can do all of that myself.

I can be conscious of my happiness.

And so can any other person who feeds off of BBC and SyFy and USA. Because they are not characters. They are more dynamic than any John Green romance or Harry Potter plot twist or Supernatural death. They can recognize beauty and reality in their lives, too. It really is possible.

Songs to listen to, cause I want to.

//You Get What You Give // New Radicals//
//Washed by the Water // Needtobreathe//

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Who Needs a Title (about people, relationships, and friends)

We all have people in our lives we are quite fond of. People that matter to us and make our days a shade brighter. We have people that make us feel wanted and give us a sense of unity. People that make us feel better than anyone else in the whole world.

Who are these people? Are they your family, your friends, or your mates? Do they live with you, laugh with you, or cry with you?

Take a moment and think about them. Are they as devoted to you as you are to them? If they are not, is that okay?

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

What I do know is this: There are people in my life that hold a distinct amount of my adoration in their hands. If I take a step back, I can see how wrong this situation is. I can see how sometimes they don't care about me as much as I need them to, or respond to me in ways that show mutual respect. I can see that if I were the subject of a movie, my character would hold an ultimatum above the people's heads and/or ditch them for others that truly matter. I can see the hero born out of my own self, setting me free of the people I so wrongly love.

However, I am no hero. I want to be liked and wanted and approved, to a certain point. And that requires me to ignore my embarrassment, discomfort, and displeasure and turn my emotions into blushes and laughter. It requires me to laugh at mere jokes. Jokes made of me.

Don't get me wrong, I give a lot, and in turn, I really do recieve. I have friends. Friends that will confide in me instead of someone else. Friends that will trust me to help them find that perfect word, that perfect person, game, outfit, place, way. Friends that tell me secrets.

They may also be friends that shout my bra size across a table, but, whatever.

I do laugh and cry with some of them, and they with me. And a lot of the time, they make my life better.

Never, ever imagine that because a person does not respect you as great as you do them, say the words you've been waiting for, or keep you as their best friend all the time that you are not allowed to adore them. You ARE. Just make sure you save yourself for those who will love you forever and always, just as much as you love them.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Speaking of Curiosity

I am sixteen and I know not who I am. If you are a teenager and you are confident in your social, personal, and romantic aspects, I congratulate you. Not many people can say that. We are humans and we are meant to make mistakes, let our feelings change, and be afraid of disappointing people when we do.

A girl can never know what they want until they have a sample. Immediately, options can become labeled as "never" and "not worth it".  But some take a long time to figure out.

These options (AHEM, boys) can change as quickly as the chooser's feelings.

Option 1: New blood. Safe and beckoning. Different from anything ever before. Prospects are uncertain, scary, and very fulfilling.

Option 2: A whirlwind of doubt and destruction with a sprinkle of ultimate understanding. Quite dangerous and best to keep at a comfortable and friendly distance. And that's absolutely fine.

Option 3: Talk about an alternate reality flashback. It's a little bit too soon to tell if it will amount to anything, but it's sweet. Not to be considered greatly it's just enough to entertain the idea.

So this is the question I pose. Is someone testing the waters a tease? Are they making the wrong choices? Are they a bitch for "leading someone on"?

I mean, shit, how do we know what is behind each door without opening them?  What is right and wrong doesn't matter at these points in time, because all is fair in love and war. If you want to flirt a little bit, goof around, act sweet on your friend, I will not judge you if you're only confused and curious. If you want to find the right person and not just stumble into the wrong one, that's okay.

Just promise never to ignore the fact you might hurt another person. And I'll promise, too.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

A Quick Journal.

Sometimes I think too much. And sometimes I think too little. All the same, I ramble along my path in disoriented strides. I can't find whatever is supposed to jump out at me. Whatever jumps out at me scares me into submission. There is absolutely no balance or unearthable patterns.

God, I'm still searching for cohesion.

Words disappear as I press and hold the delete button.

I have met someone recently, and they are influencing me little by little. Maybe he's a good thing. I have yet to find out.

My control breaks easier and with greater frequency as the days go by. I can't keep it in my grasp. And it gets in the way of everything that means something to me.

My apologies for the me post, but I haven't kept a journal in a year and this feels more comfortable at the moment.

Good night.