Allusions.
January 29, 2014

I have not romanticized the fucked up-ness on being so dependent on someone to such an extent that I believe that the inability to function adequately sans your presence is a celebrated norm.

We can survive apart, obviously – people have proven to be able to survive most things we thought we can’t – but I don’t want to. Your presence is a fixture in my life I’d like to remain permanent.

Except you choose to fit me between the gaps of your life when your time is unoccupied, ‘Run along now, I’m busy, go play with the other kids until I’m free to pick you up later.’

Maybe I read too much into these things. Maybe I’m just a clingy, insecure little fuck.

But the truth is I’ll never be busy enough to not miss you. And maybe that’s why it hurts the way it does.

“And she wants to know she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.”

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Things I Wish My Mother Had Told Me.
January 26, 2014

1. When you’re at some party, chain smoking next to the window with the girl with odd tattoos and piercings with purple hair and large exorbitant eyes ringed with smudged eyeliner – don’t shy away. Talk to her – ask her about her life, ask her what her tattoos mean, ask her what her childhood was like, ask her about her day. You won’t regret it. You’ll find that everyone has a story, and often, the ones that society tell you to be afraid of have the most captivating of stories to tell.

2. One day, a boy will come along – his lips will taste like cigarettes and sin, and his touch will feel like fire. His words will resonate with the deepest parts of you, and when he leaves you, you will want to die. But that feeling will go away, and you will learn to live again. Because everything is temporary, my dear. That throbbing hurt in your chest will be filled with other things in life. Books, movies, art, friends.. You will learn to love yourself. And you will then find that the world gets on its knees for the people who learn to love themselves first.

3. Please never, ever mistake desire for love. Love engulfs your soul and nourishes you. Desire emerges like an ardent flame – setting ablaze everything in its way, seeping into your veins and burning you from the inside out. And when that leaves, you’re left with nothing but the scars of the flame, and melancholy in your pores.

4. No one is going to save you, my dear. Your sadness is not beautiful. Despite what you’ve read, and what you’ve come to believe (or hope for), no one is going to find you reading Fitzgerald in Starbucks and fall in love with you. No one will come along and rescue you from that unrelentless drumming in your soul. Darling, your life is as precious as it is fragile. And your sadness, this sadness will bury you alive. No heroes will be riding up to the tower you’ve locked yourself in with his gallant steed to fight for you. You have to fight for yourself. You have to slay your own dragons.

5. It’s okay to get drunk. Whether it’s just for fun or because you need liquid courage to tell someone how you feel, it’s completely fine. And you know what else is completely fine? Not getting drunk. Don’t fall under the pressure of pleasing people. Please yourself and live for you.

6. Don’t be one of those girls who go “You’re crazy!” or “That’s not true!” when someone compliments you. We’re raised with this expectation of self-effacement that society places on us, and it damages you. It damages your self-worth and your self-esteem. Learn to be praised vocally, and learn to be admired. Learn to bask in the effervescent awe that others have for you. Breathe it in, and accept that there will also be times where you won’t be accepted. But that’s okay.

7. Alone time is good for the soul. It’s good to cancel your plans sometimes, close your door, turn off your phone, and play some Bastille, or John Mayer, or whatever else you prefer, and just enjoy your own company. Maybe you could read a book, or hell, even write one if you’re up for it. But take some time to yourself and learn to be happy with you and the sound of your breathing. You are the only person who’ll be with you to the very end, so learn to laugh at your own jokes, enjoy the way you pronounce words when you read aloud, bask in your slight tone deafness while you sing.

8. Be a traveller. The world is vast, and you should never be content until you’ve seen all that you want to see. Be curious, be adventurous, be uninhibited. Learn by seeing new places, and experiencing new things. Learn by listening to someone tell you the details about the ancient civilizations. Understand architecture through the Greek structures standing right in front of you. Appreciate the beauty of the world when you watch the elephants in the wild in Kenya. Satiate your thirst for interesting people shacking up with dozens of unwashed backpackers in New Zealand. Write amazing poetry because you can feel the words coming to you as the wind tangles in your hair, glancing up at the brilliant orange sunset above Angkor Watt.

9. Contrary to what people might have you think, there is absolutely nothing wrong with sex (except when it’s not consensual – then it’s called rape).  Learn to love him, and let him love you back. But don’t ever be afraid of the moment. Embrace it – be loud, be clumsy, be real. Bump heads, miss when you kiss, laugh when it happens, and keep kissing. Enjoy your body and enjoy your partner’s too. Speak to each other while you make love – speak words, speak with your body, speak to their soul. Touch them – caress their skin, kiss their goose bumps, play with the scruffy hair on their neck. Keep the lights on and watch their eyes when they explode. Don’t worry about the extra skin, or sizes of parts, and things that are meaningless. Feel yourself coming together and falling apart. Revel in the closeness and intimacy that you share, and melt into one another.

10. Nothing is stopping you. If you wanted to, you could get up and just leave whenever you want. You could get up right now, and run up to a guy and kiss him – any guy. What’s stopping you? Your fear of not being good enough? Your fear of rejection? Your fear that people might not like you for trying to do something out there and different? That’s everything that is wrong about society. The idea that you have to follow the unspoken do’s and don’t’s. Don’t let them shackle you. Do what you want. Be who you want. And who cares if you fail? Stand up and try again. Nothing is stopping you, my dear.

11. You can never go wrong with pizza.

12. If you ever feel unloved or devalued and demotivated, know that you are the world to me and that I find the upmost worth in you. You’re destined for big things, my dear, I know it. The world is your oyster. Now go knock ’em dead.

“My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.”

Epiphany.
March 31, 2013

It’s strange. I think the only time where I am motivated to get to finishing the half-baked scribbles behind café napkins and ideas scrawled between lines of class notes is if I’m reminded by how fast and fleeting life is. I woke up today, not for the first time in my life, absolutely terrified. I had dreamt that I was dying; before I had even begun to start doing the things I wanted to do in life, it was all going to end.

It isn’t unusual; I had always had this fear of my life ending before it began. One of my dearest friends had killed herself before she was sixteen, my grandma had recently passed, and I was even reading Looking for Alaska right before bed. So it isn’t unusual at all that I was plagued by thoughts and dreams of mortality. But I woke up and I decided that I want to write more, that I needed to write more. That I don’t want to just run out of time and not finish what I had decided was important all those years ago.

Had I had have any lick of talent with musical instruments, I would’ve went out to buy a white BIC lighter, carry it around in my pocket at all times and start to exclusively write with my left hand to join the greats. To ensure I left behind something, anything that was of significance. Of course it’d all be pointless if I didn’t die at 27, but what does it matter. It would be stupid and irrelevant, but it would be poignant. And it would be beautiful. And that would mean something.

I guess I just don’t want to leave with the knowledge that I haven’t done anything. But then again, don’t we all. I just feel like I need to start writing again. I have to. I simply cannot wait until I am out of time. And that is an epiphany if I ever had one.

“Francois Rabelais. He was a poet. And his last words were ‘I go to seek a Great Perhaps.’ That’s why I’m going. So I don’t have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps.”
Looking for Alaska, John Green

Keep.
March 10, 2013

Some moments in life bring me more clarity than others.

The hazy daze I’m floating in prevents me from sleeping though my body desperately needs it.

“Does it feel like you’re in control?” she asks.

Her familiar voice brings me comfort.

“Yes?” I reply timidly.

“Yes?” she repeats with the same tone of debatable certainty in her voice.

“Yes,” I say with more force. More assurance. More confidence.

“Good,” she smiles.

I’m not even sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. I mirror the smile nevertheless and a silence falls between us.

“But are you?” she asks, shattering the silence that sits between us so smugly.

“Not at all,” I chuckle.

“Good,” she smiles complacently. And just like that, she disappears without a trace. As if she’s made her point and there was nothing more to say.

I sigh to myself.

How long before it’s too long?

How far before it’s too far?

I’m not crazy. Really.

I’m aware that having a conversation with someone who’s not there might fall under some mental health grey area, but I find this need to sometimes seek you out. Talk to you like you’re still here. Imagine what you’d say when you caught me having a moment.

I’m not lonely either. Not really.

My heart is full and occupied, I have no more need for you, but I’m holding on to you like a child holding on to the toy they’ve had since they could remember because it’s comfortable. Familiar. Easy.

I just want to keep you for as long as I can. Is that really so much to ask?

“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.”
C.S. Lewis.

It’ll Feel Like It Should.
January 10, 2013

A little more. Just a little more.

Give a little more time to me. One more kiss. One more hug. One more. More.

And I realize that I always want that little bit more.

It’s been a while, but I feel the same. A different point in time, a different person, a different pain, but all the same at the core.

A little more. Just a little more.

We’re always going to want a little more. A little more love, a little more leeway for mistakes, a little more words to fill this blog, a little more time.

 …

“I found more joy in sorrow than you could find in joy.
Sara Teasdale.

Up Yours.
September 12, 2012

It’s funny, we sit around, trying to be all Zen and accepting, we have beer and we quote bits and pieces of repeated, recycled, digested and spat out a thousand times over crap to make ourselves feel better;

‘Everything happens for a reason.’

‘God has other plans.’

‘What’s meant to be will be.’

But none of it is even true. Well, okay, maybe they could be possibly be true.

But I’m not going to sit around banking on a ‘Maybe’.

I’ve had a cushy enough life, ‘ll admit that much. I’ve never starved or needed anything that couldn’t be provided for me, but I was never handed anything on a platter.

I am who I am because my parents gave me opportunities.

I got what I got because I worked for them.

I am who I am because took whatever opportunities that was exposed to be and I worked hard. I play pretty hard too, sure, but I got what I got because I took action and reaped the rewards from the said action.

So I’m not about to sit around and go on about destiny, or fate, or providence or whatever else you want to call it, having other plans for me. I don’t believe in that. Do I believe that luck has a hand in whatever our situation? Sure. But ultimately, life is about the choices we make and the actions we take.

Destiny? I’d rather not go with that.

Yes, I want to get the hell out of here. Yes, I dwell in words and romanticize the ideas wrapped around them. Yes, the existential questions and the glare of harsh realities scare me. But at least I have the courage to want what I want out loud.

At least I’m not surrendering to the hum drum lull of 9-5 traditional relationships to repetitive things and an ordinary life waiting for hopefully an early heart attack or a sleepy truck driver to drag me out of my misery.

At least I’m not too afraid to move an inch out of where I am now.

So fuck you and your preconceived notions about my life. Step outside your tiny pinhole of a wretched, dismal existence for a second and look around you. Or someone might just kick you between the legs so hard one day you’ll wanna crawl back into your mom.

“You’re not really an adult at all. You’re just a tall child holding a beer, having a conversation you don’t understand.”
Dylan Moran.

Like Subatomic Particles.
August 14, 2012

Time flies. And how weird is it; that you go through it all bumbling and fumbling through the best and the worst? That you’re here, now; skin creating, growing, and regenerating millions of new cells, heart pumping, brain firing synapses, processing memory, controlling emotions?

Then you look down at your hands and laugh because what the fuck, hands. The design is hilarious truth be told, and if we weren’t so used to it, it would be one of those things that you can’t wrap your mind around why or how or what purpose it was meant to serve.

And it’s not unlike life and how time flies.

I look upon the gravelly road I’m on and how far I have come, the people whose shadows intertwined with mine along the way, the bumps and bruises the less than stable road has caused and I’m not quite sure of anything.

Things are changing, so much quicker than I had imagined.

And I have to physically try to pick my jaw off the ground to soak in the astounding fact that I just told myself to unclench because moving along my gruff path is what I always wanted.

It’s odd because people dot about along their path as though all the times of the world have stopped for them. No rush. No schedule. No destination. And I always hated having to be one of them, having brick walls stall me from moving along because I’ve always been in a hurry.

And it makes no sense, none of it. It’s like the particularly handsome older Stonem child said; it’s chance, chaos, coincidence. And that’s what the great thing about the universe. It’s unpredictable.

See? I’m not even making sense. Time has now even refused me the privilege to consolidate my thoughts in a manner befitting of one who wishes to write for a living.

“To call it yearning would be like calling the ocean, water.”
R.A. Nelson

Thoughts. Just Thoughts.
July 30, 2012

The more I think about it, the more I believe that it would have blown everything out of the fucking water if J.K. Rowling flew in on a broom, with dragons paving the way, and declared quidditch as a sport in the London Olympic Games opening ceremony.

Just the things I think about.

“If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is compromise.”
Anaïs Nin.

Faded Directions.
April 26, 2012

It took being away from the person I normally was, the skin I’m normally in, the people I’m normally around and in a completely different environment and air for me to realize that sometimes things are just out of your control.

No matter how hard you try, sometimes it’s just not going to work out.

And it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that all that time and effort were wasted because it was all for nothing. Because ultimately, no matter how hard you pushed on, no matter how hard you tried or hoped, it didn’t change anything.

No matter what bullshit psychobabble people spout to lessen the blow with their ‘at least you tried’ and ‘take it as a lesson for next time’ it will hurt like nothing ever did before because you will know it was all for nothing. You wasted time trying to change something that could never have been changed anyway.

And at the end of the day, it sucks. And it will continue to suck knowing that it was all just.. for nothing. Not one thing.

“And I quit. I give up. Nothing’s good enough for anybody else it seems. When I’m by myself nobody else can say goodbye.”
Circle Of Friends, Edie Brickell

I Can’t Find The Fight.
April 13, 2012

Have you ever wanted something, that one thing, really really bad?

Do you remember the first flush of hoping and wishing and really really really just wanting it?

Do you remember how it made you feel when it became a possibility? When after all that pining and whining when it was finally no longer something that you merely yearned for with every fibre of your being?

Do you remember what it felt like when it seemed just within your grasp? So close you could almost just reach out and take it in your hands already?

Do you remember how it felt when within seconds to having it all, it just became another broken dream?

“Wondering when the call comes, when you say it’s alright.”
John Mayer, Split Screen Sadness