I think life has become such a laughing-stock for me. There were things that would bother me so much that I’d be kept up at night, but not anymore. Now, at the end of the day, it all seems so trivial to me. To think that people spend the larger portion of their life worrying rather than living and doing things they want to do. Don’t get me wrong, I still care about things that are going to help me progress and make a difference like work and school. However, those things don’t stress me out anymore because I know I’m trying my best. If you feel you’re putting out at least 90% of effort into anything you do, you’ll find that it becomes easier to let things be because you know you gave it effort. Whether you fail or not is not important, it’s whether you tried. And not half-ass tried, I mean actually tried.
On Monday, after I made that post about being calm, I felt like I was being tested. I left for work and before I got to the train station I dropped my boyfriend’s Ipod and cracked it. It made me sad, I apologized, I cared, but I didn’t let it get to me. When I got to the train station I realized I had let my roommate borrow my monthly Metrocard so I had to purchase one. Then, the machine wouldn’t take my debit card and I thought my balance had suddenly dropped to zero (it was far from zero the day before). I had to use the money I forgot to give my coworker, the esthetician from my job, for her tip. This was the second time of me forgetting to do so, so I was really sad about this. By the time I got up the stairs to the train, it had just closed its doors and I had to wait for the next one which would come in 10 minutes.
At first, I began to feel myself getting stressed out. My chest tightened up a bit and my head hurt, but then I thought, “Well, it’s fine”. That was it, the stress went away. I was happy again and listening to Lykke Li with a smile while my curly hair blew any way it wanted in the wind. I thought about how I could just take out some more cash to give for her tip, how I could just ask my roommate where my Metrocard was, and how if completely necessary I could pay to fix my boyfriend’s Ipod screen even though I’m not in a position to be spending unnecessarily. It was all okay. I ended up getting to work early and having a pretty decent day.
Now, everything has become a lot like that day for me. I feel myself getting upset or depressed or anything other than content and I stop myself from falling down into that slump. Even if I end up in that slump, I find a way out now. I think about things that make me happy or, at least, content with life. This isn’t easy. I’m not sure how I’ve gotten this far, but I know that all the pieces are falling in just the right spots for me. When they don’t, that’s just fine, too, because nothing is perfect and eventually, at one point, I will be happy even if it’s not at that exact moment in time.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Skin
We've got this habit of writing memories on walls
With our skin.
We've got this way about us,
You've got this way with me when you're in
and I'm out of my mind.
In those moments my worries go unthought of,
So my mouth can't speak complaints.
Your eyes tell my eyes it is okay, to close.
Your lips tell my lips parted lips should voice pleasure and not woes.
Your fingertips tell me I'm beautiful and I'm dirty,
And I'm everything and the only thing I feel in those moments.
This is the only place the world can't come to find me.
With our skin.
We've got this way about us,
You've got this way with me when you're in
and I'm out of my mind.
In those moments my worries go unthought of,
So my mouth can't speak complaints.
Your eyes tell my eyes it is okay, to close.
Your lips tell my lips parted lips should voice pleasure and not woes.
Your fingertips tell me I'm beautiful and I'm dirty,
And I'm everything and the only thing I feel in those moments.
This is the only place the world can't come to find me.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
It's my life, don't you forget.
Arguing with my mom always places me in a horrible mood as it should. This all began on the topic of marijuana. I tried to explain to her how everyday I become a little less enthused by law and religion and a little more inclined to live life how I want. I don’t believe in religion and I’m growing to care less and less about laws. That doesn’t mean I won’t follow them, it just means I’m more likely to bend them to my liking. Somehow that processed in her mind to mean that I have no morals and that I’ll end up in jail. She jumped from marijuana use to me killing someone. Apparently, since I will break a law about using a substance I am more likely to kill someone. How that adds up, I’ll never know.
I really don’t feel the need to follow a bunch of guidelines made for me by man. Just because I don’t believe in following what someone else tells me to do with my life doesn’t mean I’m going to do things that are considered morally incorrect (who decides what morally correct is anyway?). In my opinion, I know what is right and wrong by how it affects other people. If I kill someone, I take away a life, someone’s loved one, friend, etc. If I steal from someone, I’m taking something that isn’t mine. If I cook up some crack and sell it, I’m possibly ruining someone’s life. However, if I decided to sit home one day and smoke marijuana no one is affected by me. I really feel that is the best way to measure morality. If you’re going to do something and you want to measure if it’s right or not, think about how it will affect someone else. I mean really think about how it could affect anyone in anyway. If what you’re going to do only affects yourself or it might affect someone, but in no way that will hurt them then it is moral. No?
People spend so much of their lives worrying about what other people are going to think or say or feel or do about whatever it is that they’re doing that they don’t get to live. Days are long, years are short. Life is long, but it passes by quickly. I don’t want to spend my life doing what other people told me to because according to them it is okay/right/correct. People don’t decide what is best for my life. I want to spend my life living the way I feel best suits me. I feel that if my decisions in life do not negatively affect someone else, if my decisions do no hurt anyone else in any way, then they are my decisions and mine alone. To bother means to take an effort to do something, to take the trouble to do something. Whatever decision anyone else chooses to make is their own and I am not bothered by it if I’m not affected. Being bothered would take some effort to care about something that doesn’t affect me.
If I don’t bother to affect you, don’t bother to question me.
I really don’t feel the need to follow a bunch of guidelines made for me by man. Just because I don’t believe in following what someone else tells me to do with my life doesn’t mean I’m going to do things that are considered morally incorrect (who decides what morally correct is anyway?). In my opinion, I know what is right and wrong by how it affects other people. If I kill someone, I take away a life, someone’s loved one, friend, etc. If I steal from someone, I’m taking something that isn’t mine. If I cook up some crack and sell it, I’m possibly ruining someone’s life. However, if I decided to sit home one day and smoke marijuana no one is affected by me. I really feel that is the best way to measure morality. If you’re going to do something and you want to measure if it’s right or not, think about how it will affect someone else. I mean really think about how it could affect anyone in anyway. If what you’re going to do only affects yourself or it might affect someone, but in no way that will hurt them then it is moral. No?
People spend so much of their lives worrying about what other people are going to think or say or feel or do about whatever it is that they’re doing that they don’t get to live. Days are long, years are short. Life is long, but it passes by quickly. I don’t want to spend my life doing what other people told me to because according to them it is okay/right/correct. People don’t decide what is best for my life. I want to spend my life living the way I feel best suits me. I feel that if my decisions in life do not negatively affect someone else, if my decisions do no hurt anyone else in any way, then they are my decisions and mine alone. To bother means to take an effort to do something, to take the trouble to do something. Whatever decision anyone else chooses to make is their own and I am not bothered by it if I’m not affected. Being bothered would take some effort to care about something that doesn’t affect me.
If I don’t bother to affect you, don’t bother to question me.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
If you touch my baby's hair, I'll have to kill you.
I'm not saying that I want kids right now. I do not. I'm already perplexed about life enough. I also am not saying that I will be having kids with my boyfriend right now because that's a big thing to plan and who knows what tomorrow will bring.
BUT, I am saying that when I have kids I'm pretty sure it's not going to be with a man who has a straight or wavy hair. I've never dated any type of European or Caucasian guys, or even lighter skinned Hispanic. I usually date guys who have a darker complexion than me whether they be Hispanic or African American. Because of this most of them had fairly (but undoubtedly) curly to extremely curly hair and I'm pretty sure my future has someone with the same kind of hair in store. In any case, even if I did move on to have kids with someone with straight hair my strong genes might cause them to be born with very thick, curly hair considering how curly my hair is.
The point is, I promise my unborn children, specifically daughters if I have them, that I will never let anyone relax or put any chemicals of the sort near their hair. If I hadn't lived with my father and grandfather as a child my mother would have never relaxed my hair from the time I was five years old until my freshmen year in high school. There was no need, my natural hair was capable of growing long and beautifully. Today, I might even be more comfortable with my hair as it is and naturally had they never made me go through the process of constant relaxing and cutting my hair to shoulder length.
At one point, when I stopped relaxing I didn't appreciate my hair enough to take care of it. I had this full head of thick hair that spread out wide and far, and everyone would make fun of me for it (even when it was relaxed, but curly!). I came to be ashamed of what I had on my head so when I was old enough I tried everything I could to change it. I went through having half of my head copper and the other brown to being a full copper color to becoming a red head to bleaching my hair... twice to cutting it all off and dying it light brown to flat iron it to death until I needed to cut it off again and dye it black to blond highlights to the front part of my hair being blond to half of my head being blond and really damaged to what I have now. At the beginning of these years of hair transformation I was happy that I was losing hair because I hate having so much and people making fun of me. Now, I'd give anything to have my natural full, thick hair back, but I'll never have it back. My hair is still thicker than most, but it is nothing like what I started out with and nothing like what I had after I stopped relaxing. To anyone else, my hair is perfectly fine now. One might even say that my hair is pretty. Internally, dealing with the fact that this is my hair now bothers me a lot.
The smallest things can change how a person feels inside about life and about them. I want my kids to be proud of their hair no matter what texture it is. I want them to be able to grow up with strong, thick hair like I used to have if that is the case. I want them to understand that the way they were (will be) born is beautiful and let no one convince them of any different. I don't mind if they experiment with different things, but I want them to do it by choice. I want them to do it because it's what they truly want and not because the people around them told them it would be better. I want to teach my unborn children to know that they are best just the way they are.
BUT, I am saying that when I have kids I'm pretty sure it's not going to be with a man who has a straight or wavy hair. I've never dated any type of European or Caucasian guys, or even lighter skinned Hispanic. I usually date guys who have a darker complexion than me whether they be Hispanic or African American. Because of this most of them had fairly (but undoubtedly) curly to extremely curly hair and I'm pretty sure my future has someone with the same kind of hair in store. In any case, even if I did move on to have kids with someone with straight hair my strong genes might cause them to be born with very thick, curly hair considering how curly my hair is.
The point is, I promise my unborn children, specifically daughters if I have them, that I will never let anyone relax or put any chemicals of the sort near their hair. If I hadn't lived with my father and grandfather as a child my mother would have never relaxed my hair from the time I was five years old until my freshmen year in high school. There was no need, my natural hair was capable of growing long and beautifully. Today, I might even be more comfortable with my hair as it is and naturally had they never made me go through the process of constant relaxing and cutting my hair to shoulder length.
At one point, when I stopped relaxing I didn't appreciate my hair enough to take care of it. I had this full head of thick hair that spread out wide and far, and everyone would make fun of me for it (even when it was relaxed, but curly!). I came to be ashamed of what I had on my head so when I was old enough I tried everything I could to change it. I went through having half of my head copper and the other brown to being a full copper color to becoming a red head to bleaching my hair... twice to cutting it all off and dying it light brown to flat iron it to death until I needed to cut it off again and dye it black to blond highlights to the front part of my hair being blond to half of my head being blond and really damaged to what I have now. At the beginning of these years of hair transformation I was happy that I was losing hair because I hate having so much and people making fun of me. Now, I'd give anything to have my natural full, thick hair back, but I'll never have it back. My hair is still thicker than most, but it is nothing like what I started out with and nothing like what I had after I stopped relaxing. To anyone else, my hair is perfectly fine now. One might even say that my hair is pretty. Internally, dealing with the fact that this is my hair now bothers me a lot.
The smallest things can change how a person feels inside about life and about them. I want my kids to be proud of their hair no matter what texture it is. I want them to be able to grow up with strong, thick hair like I used to have if that is the case. I want them to understand that the way they were (will be) born is beautiful and let no one convince them of any different. I don't mind if they experiment with different things, but I want them to do it by choice. I want them to do it because it's what they truly want and not because the people around them told them it would be better. I want to teach my unborn children to know that they are best just the way they are.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
I don't want life to pass me by.
Every day I realize how much less I want to continue school until I know what I want out of life. I feel forced into this now and I'm not sure how long it will be until I crack. I have no idea if what I think I want to do is actually what I want to do or what I think I want to do because I know sooner or later I'll have to make a decision. That decision could determine the rest of my life. What if I wake up one day and realize I don't want to do what I went to school for anymore? I will have wasted all of my mom's money that she didn't really have to spare in the first place.
I'm not lazy, I love school. I'd feel a lot better about school if I didn't have to take bullshit classes and spend large amounts of money just so I can have a certain amount of credits. I wish I could just know what I want and go straight into that. I feel like an education is so damn hard to afford, but society makes it seem so necessary. Most of society makes it seem like you have to come out of high school half knowing (or knowing) what you want and sticking to that. They run you through this process that makes you think you have a choice of changing up what you want at any point, but it's all so rushed that you're forced to choose quickly. Forget about doing what I love because it's obvious that if doing what I love doesn't make money, it doesn't make sense because I see my mother and stepfather struggling to make a living out of nothing. They're struggling to pay for my school, something my own college graduate of a father working in a hospital won't even do for me.
What is it all for? If I'm always going to be working and never going to be happy. If happy means that I'm always going to be struggling. Tell me, what is it all for? I'm tired of making my mother cough of wads of cash she doesn't have to help me fulfill a dream that doesn't even belong to me. The dream she's supporting is just the next best thing because it makes money in comparison with what I believe my real dream is. I feel so rushed into this next best thing. What the fuck is it all for?
I'm not lazy, I love school. I'd feel a lot better about school if I didn't have to take bullshit classes and spend large amounts of money just so I can have a certain amount of credits. I wish I could just know what I want and go straight into that. I feel like an education is so damn hard to afford, but society makes it seem so necessary. Most of society makes it seem like you have to come out of high school half knowing (or knowing) what you want and sticking to that. They run you through this process that makes you think you have a choice of changing up what you want at any point, but it's all so rushed that you're forced to choose quickly. Forget about doing what I love because it's obvious that if doing what I love doesn't make money, it doesn't make sense because I see my mother and stepfather struggling to make a living out of nothing. They're struggling to pay for my school, something my own college graduate of a father working in a hospital won't even do for me.
What is it all for? If I'm always going to be working and never going to be happy. If happy means that I'm always going to be struggling. Tell me, what is it all for? I'm tired of making my mother cough of wads of cash she doesn't have to help me fulfill a dream that doesn't even belong to me. The dream she's supporting is just the next best thing because it makes money in comparison with what I believe my real dream is. I feel so rushed into this next best thing. What the fuck is it all for?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
1/25/11
What is it I keep searching for
In every second of every minute
And each moment
Why do I keep crying
Like this is all some big mistake by chance
And I don't have a choice
How can I blame anyone, but me
For causing all of this for myself
When I know it's all my fault
And I keep reaching for the fire
With every burn I'm a little more drawn
I keep reaching for the fire
Finally the pain is not so appealing,
But I feel like I can never let go.
In every second of every minute
And each moment
Why do I keep crying
Like this is all some big mistake by chance
And I don't have a choice
How can I blame anyone, but me
For causing all of this for myself
When I know it's all my fault
And I keep reaching for the fire
With every burn I'm a little more drawn
I keep reaching for the fire
Finally the pain is not so appealing,
But I feel like I can never let go.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Grammar and sentence structure.
40+ tips to improve your grammar and punctuation.
http://www.dumblittleman.com/2006/12/40-tips-to-improve-your-grammar-and.html
For lessons
http://www.dailygrammar.com/
http://www.dumblittleman.com/2006/12/40-tips-to-improve-your-grammar-and.html
For lessons
http://www.dailygrammar.com/
Monday, January 17, 2011
Business Not Pleasure: An update.
An update on the post from last night about business vs. pleasure: two of the people who were my friends are no longer that. Yep, that's how the cookie crumbles. It sounds awful, but it makes for a better story rather than a book or movie ending, we have reality. We have life. Here is our climax people! And luckily, what comes next is the denouement
I said a few things that were out of line that night because I thought I was talking to a friend, but in reality our relationship had changed long before that night. I hadn't realized it, again, because I was so caught up in my own world and all of the other things that have been affecting my life lately. I'm not saying it's okay to get extremely out of line with your friends all the time, but I am saying that friends usually forgive.
Not surprisingly, the friend who has gotten really close to her chose to follow her lead. What does that mean? Two friends down. So, in my point to help, I lost two people. That's life. I've made a separate post about people and losing them before. I rather have a small amount of real friends than a large amount of "friends". Those all turn out to be relationships that cause my life headaches.
It will make for an awkward workplace at times, but it also means that I don't have to worry about anyone's feelings when I make work related decisions or when I'm keeping up with people. So while one dilemma rears it's ugly head, another clears up. Besides, I'll only have to deal with awkwardness for a few minutes or possibly for one shift. That in itself is a sunnier disposition for me. I can assure you that this isn't a negative post. It's hopeful, and it's saying that life happens and lessons are learned from every situation. I can't make people be my friends. I can only hope that they are grateful for the opportunity I gave to them, and that it does help them as much as need be and as much as I originally wanted it to. I will never again put myself in such a position.
I said a few things that were out of line that night because I thought I was talking to a friend, but in reality our relationship had changed long before that night. I hadn't realized it, again, because I was so caught up in my own world and all of the other things that have been affecting my life lately. I'm not saying it's okay to get extremely out of line with your friends all the time, but I am saying that friends usually forgive.
Not surprisingly, the friend who has gotten really close to her chose to follow her lead. What does that mean? Two friends down. So, in my point to help, I lost two people. That's life. I've made a separate post about people and losing them before. I rather have a small amount of real friends than a large amount of "friends". Those all turn out to be relationships that cause my life headaches.
It will make for an awkward workplace at times, but it also means that I don't have to worry about anyone's feelings when I make work related decisions or when I'm keeping up with people. So while one dilemma rears it's ugly head, another clears up. Besides, I'll only have to deal with awkwardness for a few minutes or possibly for one shift. That in itself is a sunnier disposition for me. I can assure you that this isn't a negative post. It's hopeful, and it's saying that life happens and lessons are learned from every situation. I can't make people be my friends. I can only hope that they are grateful for the opportunity I gave to them, and that it does help them as much as need be and as much as I originally wanted it to. I will never again put myself in such a position.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Business Not Pleasure
What I write in this post may or may not upset some individuals and/or fuel a fire that is still engulfing a portion of my life right now. However, I promised myself I wouldn’t censor my blog for anyone and whatever the following may cause is what fate will have it be.
In helping out others I have hindered the flexibility of my job. A couple months ago I hired 3 people: two friends from different aspects of my life and a new friend from a completely different aspect of my life. I was warned of the repercussions of this by many people, but I refused to believe that helping out would ever be a bad thing.
Now that the semester is coming around, I find myself in a tricky situation. A situation where I will work 5 days a week and go to school three days a week. I thought by going to school three days a week things might be easier, but I’m starting to feel I was horribly wrong when I made that assumption. Two of those days, Tuesday and Thursday, I will be going to school from 9:30am until 6:15pm and then going to work directly after until 11pm. That hardly sounds doable considering I will work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (which is now in question and hurting my plan even more). I know there are ways to switch to get a weekday off, but that would mean working a later shift during the weekend. The only time I get to see my mother is on weekends and anything, but an early shift Saturday would make seeing her impossible since she lives so far away.
Now, I made my schedule that way because I thought about how flexible work usually is. Work is no longer that easy because the three people I pushed to be hired are stone cold about making changes in their schedule. Had I not pushed and my job had found other people, I probably wouldn’t be in this situation. Actually, I know I wouldn’t be in this situation because I’ve never been so stuck in a schedule in my life. My job usually goes for people who are out of school; dancers, actors, etc.
Newly being manager and trying to live up to the last manager’s reputation put a lot of pressure on the situations I was in as well because my position was never understood. I was trying to keep friendships instead of putting a foot down. I never explained how things would be because I assumed that they would understand my position from the beginning. I can’t fully put blame on any one because it was my decision to have these people hired. It is also my fault that instigated situations got out of hand because I wasn’t sure how to handle them. Again, I have never dealt with such situations at work in my life. All of these things boiled up to a huge misunderstanding and now I’m facing the hardest situation I have ever come across in my work history.
To be honest, I wish I could go back and make a better decision. I wish that I would have thought about how hard it would be being manager first without adding the pressure of being manager to your friends and making a new friend. These people will never understand how hard it actually is to be in my position because they aren’t in it. They can only see from the outside in and from their point of view I look like a shitty person. I’m just a hurt person worried about how this will all play out. I didn’t think with my brain, I thought with my heart. I know the people in the situation don’t see it that way and possibly feel I’m selfish or self absorbed, but if that was the case then I would have never tried to help anybody out. The moment I knew that there would be openings I thought about the best suited people for the job who might need the job. I honestly took a lot of time to think about it because I didn’t want to fuck it up. I still fucked it up and I suppose that it was meant to be that way. I feel that all of life’s mishaps are meant to teach you something.
In the future, I will try to sort out my thoughts and really analyze things before I make such rash decisions. I will listen to the advice given by other people and take things a little slower. Sometimes helping out too much (or feeling like your doing a large good deed) can be a bad thing. Too much good can also be bad or so they say.
All I can do now is hope that better things will come and a new plan will unfold that will bring me some sort of ease. Panicking about what hasn’t come yet will only make me more stressed out, so I’ll take it as it comes. I’m trying to calm life down, one breath at a time. I trust that things might get worse, but that only means that anything else that comes will feel so much better.
I’ll figure it out when the time comes and I will master these two writing courses, history course, and Italian course. I will master all of them while working hard, paying my bills/rent, and surviving in any way I can. Nothing is impossible.
In helping out others I have hindered the flexibility of my job. A couple months ago I hired 3 people: two friends from different aspects of my life and a new friend from a completely different aspect of my life. I was warned of the repercussions of this by many people, but I refused to believe that helping out would ever be a bad thing.
Now that the semester is coming around, I find myself in a tricky situation. A situation where I will work 5 days a week and go to school three days a week. I thought by going to school three days a week things might be easier, but I’m starting to feel I was horribly wrong when I made that assumption. Two of those days, Tuesday and Thursday, I will be going to school from 9:30am until 6:15pm and then going to work directly after until 11pm. That hardly sounds doable considering I will work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (which is now in question and hurting my plan even more). I know there are ways to switch to get a weekday off, but that would mean working a later shift during the weekend. The only time I get to see my mother is on weekends and anything, but an early shift Saturday would make seeing her impossible since she lives so far away.
Now, I made my schedule that way because I thought about how flexible work usually is. Work is no longer that easy because the three people I pushed to be hired are stone cold about making changes in their schedule. Had I not pushed and my job had found other people, I probably wouldn’t be in this situation. Actually, I know I wouldn’t be in this situation because I’ve never been so stuck in a schedule in my life. My job usually goes for people who are out of school; dancers, actors, etc.
Newly being manager and trying to live up to the last manager’s reputation put a lot of pressure on the situations I was in as well because my position was never understood. I was trying to keep friendships instead of putting a foot down. I never explained how things would be because I assumed that they would understand my position from the beginning. I can’t fully put blame on any one because it was my decision to have these people hired. It is also my fault that instigated situations got out of hand because I wasn’t sure how to handle them. Again, I have never dealt with such situations at work in my life. All of these things boiled up to a huge misunderstanding and now I’m facing the hardest situation I have ever come across in my work history.
To be honest, I wish I could go back and make a better decision. I wish that I would have thought about how hard it would be being manager first without adding the pressure of being manager to your friends and making a new friend. These people will never understand how hard it actually is to be in my position because they aren’t in it. They can only see from the outside in and from their point of view I look like a shitty person. I’m just a hurt person worried about how this will all play out. I didn’t think with my brain, I thought with my heart. I know the people in the situation don’t see it that way and possibly feel I’m selfish or self absorbed, but if that was the case then I would have never tried to help anybody out. The moment I knew that there would be openings I thought about the best suited people for the job who might need the job. I honestly took a lot of time to think about it because I didn’t want to fuck it up. I still fucked it up and I suppose that it was meant to be that way. I feel that all of life’s mishaps are meant to teach you something.
In the future, I will try to sort out my thoughts and really analyze things before I make such rash decisions. I will listen to the advice given by other people and take things a little slower. Sometimes helping out too much (or feeling like your doing a large good deed) can be a bad thing. Too much good can also be bad or so they say.
All I can do now is hope that better things will come and a new plan will unfold that will bring me some sort of ease. Panicking about what hasn’t come yet will only make me more stressed out, so I’ll take it as it comes. I’m trying to calm life down, one breath at a time. I trust that things might get worse, but that only means that anything else that comes will feel so much better.
I’ll figure it out when the time comes and I will master these two writing courses, history course, and Italian course. I will master all of them while working hard, paying my bills/rent, and surviving in any way I can. Nothing is impossible.
Identity
I know nothing about explaining emotions,
No matter how hard I try nothing ever comes out right,
In my head, everything sounds perfect,
but when I let all of my thoughts out
I'm overwhelmed with the reactions they bring.
I'll never know how to be charming,
I have no delightful quirkiness to me,
and if I ever did, I must of lost it long ago..
No matter how hard I try nothing ever comes out right,
In my head, everything sounds perfect,
but when I let all of my thoughts out
I'm overwhelmed with the reactions they bring.
I'll never know how to be charming,
I have no delightful quirkiness to me,
and if I ever did, I must of lost it long ago..
I wanted to be Judy Garland.
My mom always told me I reminded her of Judy, but I could never and don't think I will ever be able to pull of being that classy. I can never be classy because I curse too much, I don't think when I eat so I bang dishes/cups and slurp, I put my elbows on the table, I slouch, I walk very sloppy, I'm very clumsy, I'm not dainty, I speak before I think, I do not censor my words to people's likings, all of my movements are awkward, my eye movements are also awkward, I say "like" "um" "you know what I mean" "yeah" too much, and more. I'm possibly the complete opposite of classy and I don't like that about myself because I've always longed to be a classy young woman strolling along in my elegance without trying too hard. Classy will never come easy for me, growing up raised by two men and in Brooklyn never taught me classy.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Day One: Loneliness.
Her days were filled with loneliness, but there were times when she was so happy. Most of her happy moments would be interrupted by something that would be blown out of proportion. That's how she lived her life, on the dramatic end of the spectrum.
He left messages that could be thought as something else. It was a misunderstanding and she misunderstood it at first, too. She didn't see it coming. The clouds picked up in the night sky and winds blew treacherously. It was ridiculously cold. Inside there was a stir of emotions and mouths spoke words that hurt. A few slamming of doors and separation was all it took for her to grab a few things and jet before the storm came down.
Water left her eyes in buckets as she panted walking away swiftly. Her breath was short as she coughed out wailing into the night. She could see her breath in front of her as she gasped for air. Her panic attacks never came easy.
She had lost something that night. She had lost what was left of her sanity. She knew that this would only bring her bad fortune.
-- The first day of my challenge completed. I need to write something every single day until the semester starts. We'll count this for January 14 so tomorrow (what my blog considers today), I will be posting again.
He left messages that could be thought as something else. It was a misunderstanding and she misunderstood it at first, too. She didn't see it coming. The clouds picked up in the night sky and winds blew treacherously. It was ridiculously cold. Inside there was a stir of emotions and mouths spoke words that hurt. A few slamming of doors and separation was all it took for her to grab a few things and jet before the storm came down.
Water left her eyes in buckets as she panted walking away swiftly. Her breath was short as she coughed out wailing into the night. She could see her breath in front of her as she gasped for air. Her panic attacks never came easy.
She had lost something that night. She had lost what was left of her sanity. She knew that this would only bring her bad fortune.
-- The first day of my challenge completed. I need to write something every single day until the semester starts. We'll count this for January 14 so tomorrow (what my blog considers today), I will be posting again.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Expo
Expo
Note: Free write.
I watched the deep plum on her fingernails float over my skin. Her fingertips were warm and my body gravitated toward them. I saw her look up at me with hungry eyes and I pulled her face to mine. She wanted me more than ever before, but she wasn’t mine so I pulled away. She sighed and placed her hand on my chest, but really more on my breast.
It was unbearable to feel her breath on my chest as I watched her look at nothing and think about everything. Had we gotten this far only to go back to square one? Her fingers made a soft circling motion over a small beauty mark on my left breast. She knew what she was doing. She laid us down here for a reason and her reasons were not pure.
She had freckles sprinkled over her small nose and her eye lashes spread out far away from her eyes and then away from each other forming a perfect curl. I saw her lips part so I placed my hand on her face before she could talk and began to slowly pull her hair off of her face.
“I wish you knew how much I want this as bad as you do, possibly more than you. More than you can imagine.” I didn’t look at her when I spoke.
“Then why don’t you jump for once?” She said, not changing any movements.
I could still feel the soft air that left her nose on my chest. She was still making soft circular motions with her fingertips. But my heart stopped for a single moment after she said that. It stopped because I didn’t know why I wouldn’t jump. It’s not that anything could have physically stopped me at the moment. I could have taken her offer right then and indulged in every inch of her body. I could have let her soothing fingertips touch me in places I had always longed for her to touch. I could have let her full lips kiss every inch of me as her cat eyes would stare up at me with intensity. I wanted it to be that way so bad. I only knew that I couldn’t because I was his. By being there, I was already doing too much.
Note: Free write.
I watched the deep plum on her fingernails float over my skin. Her fingertips were warm and my body gravitated toward them. I saw her look up at me with hungry eyes and I pulled her face to mine. She wanted me more than ever before, but she wasn’t mine so I pulled away. She sighed and placed her hand on my chest, but really more on my breast.
It was unbearable to feel her breath on my chest as I watched her look at nothing and think about everything. Had we gotten this far only to go back to square one? Her fingers made a soft circling motion over a small beauty mark on my left breast. She knew what she was doing. She laid us down here for a reason and her reasons were not pure.
She had freckles sprinkled over her small nose and her eye lashes spread out far away from her eyes and then away from each other forming a perfect curl. I saw her lips part so I placed my hand on her face before she could talk and began to slowly pull her hair off of her face.
“I wish you knew how much I want this as bad as you do, possibly more than you. More than you can imagine.” I didn’t look at her when I spoke.
“Then why don’t you jump for once?” She said, not changing any movements.
I could still feel the soft air that left her nose on my chest. She was still making soft circular motions with her fingertips. But my heart stopped for a single moment after she said that. It stopped because I didn’t know why I wouldn’t jump. It’s not that anything could have physically stopped me at the moment. I could have taken her offer right then and indulged in every inch of her body. I could have let her soothing fingertips touch me in places I had always longed for her to touch. I could have let her full lips kiss every inch of me as her cat eyes would stare up at me with intensity. I wanted it to be that way so bad. I only knew that I couldn’t because I was his. By being there, I was already doing too much.
Monday, November 29, 2010
So this is the beginning of a wonderful and possibly tragic thing.
Note: This is a recycled post from August 2nd, 2009.
How do I begin? I’m going to start writing stories. In these stories I will talk about experiences and life, real or fictional? Only I’ll know. I have so many ideas right now so this may turn out to be something great.
We sat on his couch now, him with his head on my lap. We had just had an intense tournament on Street Fighter 4. I was trying to watch the movie on his enormous tv screen he had bragged so much about. I didn’t care about his tv or his parties or his dream of being this big time person with something to do with cars. He interested me very little on a whole. There was a time when I spent every night talking to him on the phone. We laughed and watched ridiculous tv shows together and now I find myself dreading the thought of even a text or im from him. We have nothing in common besides liking eachother’s attention for the moment.
He said little comments here and there and would stick his finger up my nose. I found that weird and cute, it was something I had gotten use to from another person. He looked up at me too much. He looked at me too much, I hated it. It made me nervous and it made me feel like I wanted to leave. I wanted to check my phone, due to my obsessive compulsive disorder that only pretains to socializing devices. I knew better than to check my phone here because the last time I was here he fried it to make me stop looking at it. At that time I had a reason to look, now it was out of pure habit. He put his arms around me leaning his head onto my not-so-there breasts. He was trying hard not to put too much pressure though. Then he looked up at me, his lips close to mine. I knew what he wanted, but I wasn’t giving it to him. So he took it upon himself to climb on top of me. He pretended to wrestle with me and hit me with couch pillows now. Then he held me tight, “You’re not going to get out of this.” I wasn’t going to try. He came close, I could feel the air from his nose on my face and I turned my head. I didn’t want to kiss him. He placed his lips on mine and grasped mine within his as I lay there without making any movements. I looked up at the ceiling with this ‘Are you really doing this?’ face. There’s something that guys like to do, it’s called making girls kiss them when they really don’t want to. Every guy I’ve encountered that is remotely interested in me has attempted to make me kiss him one way or another.
“I’m not going to kiss you back,” I pulled my lips away from his and faced the tv.
“Why not?” He turned my face to him, still on top of me. He placed his lips on mine again making little smacking noises on my dead lips. ‘He’s not going to stop until I do this,’ I turned away. We continued on like that for about 5 minutes before I allowed myself to give in to this task. I was getting tired of him being on top of me. I parted my lips and grasped his back, I looked at his eyes and they were closed. Funny how I have never failed to relate closing eyes with feelings, but he didn’t feel for me. He had no interest other than to slip my panties off with his teeth. I thought back to the time he brought me to one of the most romantic looking places I had ever been to. It was a warm and humid night with a bit of rain, you could see the the lights of Manhatten gleaming through the fog. I watched the still water and thought about how my hair must look after being exposed to all of the moisture. We stood there under my Coach umbrella and he talked entirely too much. I wanted to stand there alone and feel the wet wind on my face. He wanted to tell me about the nights he couldn’t remember and brag about his life.
He squeezed me and kissed me as if any of this had any meaning. I kissed him back knowing that this would mean nothing at all to either one of us. There was a time when he kissed me and afterwards I wouldn’t be able to feel my lips. He would kiss me and I’d see stars, but now he meant nothing. He held my hands and if this had been a meaningful kiss I might have held his face, but it wasn’t. Then after he felt he had buttered me up enough, he slowly made his way down to my belly button. He has a thing for belly buttons, I remember when he played with it before I even had the ring in it. “This is new,” he laughed when he saw it gleaming at him. Then he grabbed it with his teeth and played with it with his tongue. I covered it with my hands, I love how that feels, but I didn’t want him to do it. He pushed my hands away a million times before he made his way down to undoing my button… with his teeth. I wouldn’t let him, I covered myself. I pushed him off and he didn’t budge. This was one of those times where I wished I was extremely strong. I remembered our encounter, I remembered when we had sex that one time. It wasn’t good, in fact, I laughed. I didn’t want to have sex with him again. He kissed my thighs slowly and gently. It was too bad that I didn’t like that although some girls might have. I pushed him off more and more, but he continued down. He placed his mouth on my hands which were over my vagina which was covered by shorts and underwear. ‘I don’t want this,’ I looked at the tv wishing he would stop. He held my hands down and placed his mouth over my shorts, I could feel the warm of his saliva and I didn’t want to. He bit me softly over them and I didn’t want him to.
He wouldn’t give up. “Stop,” I laughed. I didn’t want to seem like a prude, but it was way too soon and I didn’t want anything with him. He wouldn’t listen to me. Each time I fought and pulled myself away from him I was forced back into his grasp. It was getting annoying, “Stop, seriously stop.” It’s like men are programmed to keep going when women say “Stop”. We could have went on all day like this as if the hour and change I dealt with this wasn’t enough.
“Stop,” I said his name to put an emphasis on my seriousness. “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want you to do this. I don’t want you to eat me out and I don’t want to have sex with you. It’s too soon. I’d feel like shit about myself.” He stopped, only to return to his mission a while later.
Nothing happened. We continued on watching tv and we ate although I had no appetite. I had other plans and I had to get going, it almost seemed as if he didn’t want me to. I knew it was because his mission was still a fail. We had our awkward ’I’m-only-going-to-kiss-you-goodbye-because-this-is-probably-what-we-should-do-after-a-day-of-making-out’ kiss. As I walked down the steps he watched me from inside. I knew I wouldn’t see him for atleast a week or two or probably even three. I didn’t care if I didn’t see him. I didn’t care that we would hardly speak after it. I only wondered about why I kissed him and I wondered why I felt like I was cheating on someone who didn’t exist. Maybe I felt like I was cheating myself by kissing him in the first place, but I didn’t care.
How do I begin? I’m going to start writing stories. In these stories I will talk about experiences and life, real or fictional? Only I’ll know. I have so many ideas right now so this may turn out to be something great.
We sat on his couch now, him with his head on my lap. We had just had an intense tournament on Street Fighter 4. I was trying to watch the movie on his enormous tv screen he had bragged so much about. I didn’t care about his tv or his parties or his dream of being this big time person with something to do with cars. He interested me very little on a whole. There was a time when I spent every night talking to him on the phone. We laughed and watched ridiculous tv shows together and now I find myself dreading the thought of even a text or im from him. We have nothing in common besides liking eachother’s attention for the moment.
He said little comments here and there and would stick his finger up my nose. I found that weird and cute, it was something I had gotten use to from another person. He looked up at me too much. He looked at me too much, I hated it. It made me nervous and it made me feel like I wanted to leave. I wanted to check my phone, due to my obsessive compulsive disorder that only pretains to socializing devices. I knew better than to check my phone here because the last time I was here he fried it to make me stop looking at it. At that time I had a reason to look, now it was out of pure habit. He put his arms around me leaning his head onto my not-so-there breasts. He was trying hard not to put too much pressure though. Then he looked up at me, his lips close to mine. I knew what he wanted, but I wasn’t giving it to him. So he took it upon himself to climb on top of me. He pretended to wrestle with me and hit me with couch pillows now. Then he held me tight, “You’re not going to get out of this.” I wasn’t going to try. He came close, I could feel the air from his nose on my face and I turned my head. I didn’t want to kiss him. He placed his lips on mine and grasped mine within his as I lay there without making any movements. I looked up at the ceiling with this ‘Are you really doing this?’ face. There’s something that guys like to do, it’s called making girls kiss them when they really don’t want to. Every guy I’ve encountered that is remotely interested in me has attempted to make me kiss him one way or another.
“I’m not going to kiss you back,” I pulled my lips away from his and faced the tv.
“Why not?” He turned my face to him, still on top of me. He placed his lips on mine again making little smacking noises on my dead lips. ‘He’s not going to stop until I do this,’ I turned away. We continued on like that for about 5 minutes before I allowed myself to give in to this task. I was getting tired of him being on top of me. I parted my lips and grasped his back, I looked at his eyes and they were closed. Funny how I have never failed to relate closing eyes with feelings, but he didn’t feel for me. He had no interest other than to slip my panties off with his teeth. I thought back to the time he brought me to one of the most romantic looking places I had ever been to. It was a warm and humid night with a bit of rain, you could see the the lights of Manhatten gleaming through the fog. I watched the still water and thought about how my hair must look after being exposed to all of the moisture. We stood there under my Coach umbrella and he talked entirely too much. I wanted to stand there alone and feel the wet wind on my face. He wanted to tell me about the nights he couldn’t remember and brag about his life.
He squeezed me and kissed me as if any of this had any meaning. I kissed him back knowing that this would mean nothing at all to either one of us. There was a time when he kissed me and afterwards I wouldn’t be able to feel my lips. He would kiss me and I’d see stars, but now he meant nothing. He held my hands and if this had been a meaningful kiss I might have held his face, but it wasn’t. Then after he felt he had buttered me up enough, he slowly made his way down to my belly button. He has a thing for belly buttons, I remember when he played with it before I even had the ring in it. “This is new,” he laughed when he saw it gleaming at him. Then he grabbed it with his teeth and played with it with his tongue. I covered it with my hands, I love how that feels, but I didn’t want him to do it. He pushed my hands away a million times before he made his way down to undoing my button… with his teeth. I wouldn’t let him, I covered myself. I pushed him off and he didn’t budge. This was one of those times where I wished I was extremely strong. I remembered our encounter, I remembered when we had sex that one time. It wasn’t good, in fact, I laughed. I didn’t want to have sex with him again. He kissed my thighs slowly and gently. It was too bad that I didn’t like that although some girls might have. I pushed him off more and more, but he continued down. He placed his mouth on my hands which were over my vagina which was covered by shorts and underwear. ‘I don’t want this,’ I looked at the tv wishing he would stop. He held my hands down and placed his mouth over my shorts, I could feel the warm of his saliva and I didn’t want to. He bit me softly over them and I didn’t want him to.
He wouldn’t give up. “Stop,” I laughed. I didn’t want to seem like a prude, but it was way too soon and I didn’t want anything with him. He wouldn’t listen to me. Each time I fought and pulled myself away from him I was forced back into his grasp. It was getting annoying, “Stop, seriously stop.” It’s like men are programmed to keep going when women say “Stop”. We could have went on all day like this as if the hour and change I dealt with this wasn’t enough.
“Stop,” I said his name to put an emphasis on my seriousness. “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want you to do this. I don’t want you to eat me out and I don’t want to have sex with you. It’s too soon. I’d feel like shit about myself.” He stopped, only to return to his mission a while later.
Nothing happened. We continued on watching tv and we ate although I had no appetite. I had other plans and I had to get going, it almost seemed as if he didn’t want me to. I knew it was because his mission was still a fail. We had our awkward ’I’m-only-going-to-kiss-you-goodbye-because-this-is-probably-what-we-should-do-after-a-day-of-making-out’ kiss. As I walked down the steps he watched me from inside. I knew I wouldn’t see him for atleast a week or two or probably even three. I didn’t care if I didn’t see him. I didn’t care that we would hardly speak after it. I only wondered about why I kissed him and I wondered why I felt like I was cheating on someone who didn’t exist. Maybe I felt like I was cheating myself by kissing him in the first place, but I didn’t care.
Friday, October 15, 2010
10/13/10
Beauty lies deep within the soul, so long as you feel beautiful it shows...
Dewy, crisp morning, Brooklyn streets, the setting is instilled in you
The steps you take are familiar, they are habitual
The sun peaks at you through apartment buildings and two family homes
It wants to wake you up, remind you that you are alive,
But you feel like you are living in a coma.
The tapping of your feet into the trainstation and
Hoping to hear the screeches that let you know you public chariot awaits,
But you better make it because every person on it is impatient
And forbid they wait just two more seconds to continue on to their habitual lives.
We've all got these habitual lies we tell ourselves to make things seem like they have a purpose,
"If you're not making a difference, you are dormant"
I was told, but what making a difference is to them might not mean shit to you
So stressing yourself to become someone seems normal.
Why are you making every thing so hard when there is all this simplicity from the beginning?
It's so basic. Make yourself happy.
The say insanity is 'doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results',
Living is a cycle, no matter what you do
You could do something different everyday of your life and that would be your cycle
So if you are going to form a habit of something make sure it is something that makes you smile,
that makes you laugh, and that makes you love it even more, but never makes you wish you had your life back because once was just enough to satisfy your hunger.
Dewy, crisp morning, Brooklyn streets, the setting is instilled in you
The steps you take are familiar, they are habitual
The sun peaks at you through apartment buildings and two family homes
It wants to wake you up, remind you that you are alive,
But you feel like you are living in a coma.
The tapping of your feet into the trainstation and
Hoping to hear the screeches that let you know you public chariot awaits,
But you better make it because every person on it is impatient
And forbid they wait just two more seconds to continue on to their habitual lives.
We've all got these habitual lies we tell ourselves to make things seem like they have a purpose,
"If you're not making a difference, you are dormant"
I was told, but what making a difference is to them might not mean shit to you
So stressing yourself to become someone seems normal.
Why are you making every thing so hard when there is all this simplicity from the beginning?
It's so basic. Make yourself happy.
The say insanity is 'doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results',
Living is a cycle, no matter what you do
You could do something different everyday of your life and that would be your cycle
So if you are going to form a habit of something make sure it is something that makes you smile,
that makes you laugh, and that makes you love it even more, but never makes you wish you had your life back because once was just enough to satisfy your hunger.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Free Write: Something Beautiful
It’s like when you feel a train leave the station and you’re walking in the opposite direction of it’s own, but parallel to it. You walk within those yellow lines even though, in part, it frightens you to feel the strong vibrations of everything around you including the ground beneath you. The wind blowing your hair back reminds you of the force it exerts and makes you wonder what would happen if even a small piece of metal was lifted up by this force and flung at you. Would you die? Would you experience extreme pain?
That’s the feeling of danger you get when life starts going by really quickly. You have no control of it’s speed and what could happen if even one small thing goes wrong. You expect things to run smoothly and you stand in between the yellow line separating you and life. Most people stay behind it to avoid the possibility of something terrible going wrong, but you want to know what it feels like to feel the wind in your hair. You know that to experience life, sometimes you have to take risks.
So, you stand there watching it pass by, getting closer and closer, and then something flings off and hits you in the face. It hurts, it hurts more than anything you’ve ever known, but you wipe the blood and you endure the pain. You know that all wounds heal. You keep moving closer and closer to life moving so fast by you and then you touch it, but you aren’t there yet so you fall down from the impact. It hurts even more than the last time, so you lay there for a second. You almost give up, most people would walk away from it there. You feel sorry for yourself, but only for a second. Then, you reach your hands below your chest and push yourself back up. You brush off the mess you made, and you put yourself back together again.
Now, you stand there and life seems to finally slow down so that you can see all that has happened. You collect all of the memories of the incidents that hurt you and you accept them for what they are, scars and all, because life is finally coming to a halt. All of the beauty you had been waiting for and working so hard to get would soon be visible to you. You stand there in awe, this is life, and although the time you waited seemed long and the life you waited for seemed hard to reach, you know this is the beginning of something beautiful
*Note: This is just what I do on the train… write randomly.
That’s the feeling of danger you get when life starts going by really quickly. You have no control of it’s speed and what could happen if even one small thing goes wrong. You expect things to run smoothly and you stand in between the yellow line separating you and life. Most people stay behind it to avoid the possibility of something terrible going wrong, but you want to know what it feels like to feel the wind in your hair. You know that to experience life, sometimes you have to take risks.
So, you stand there watching it pass by, getting closer and closer, and then something flings off and hits you in the face. It hurts, it hurts more than anything you’ve ever known, but you wipe the blood and you endure the pain. You know that all wounds heal. You keep moving closer and closer to life moving so fast by you and then you touch it, but you aren’t there yet so you fall down from the impact. It hurts even more than the last time, so you lay there for a second. You almost give up, most people would walk away from it there. You feel sorry for yourself, but only for a second. Then, you reach your hands below your chest and push yourself back up. You brush off the mess you made, and you put yourself back together again.
Now, you stand there and life seems to finally slow down so that you can see all that has happened. You collect all of the memories of the incidents that hurt you and you accept them for what they are, scars and all, because life is finally coming to a halt. All of the beauty you had been waiting for and working so hard to get would soon be visible to you. You stand there in awe, this is life, and although the time you waited seemed long and the life you waited for seemed hard to reach, you know this is the beginning of something beautiful
*Note: This is just what I do on the train… write randomly.
Friday, September 17, 2010
9/16/10
Passionate, I want to be passionate about more than love.
I want to want more than love.
I guess I want love so bad because I have always felt I have lacked it.
Being attacked by, more than just your everyday bully.
I only knew love in the form of clenched fists slammed against my fair skin, or
Love in the form of words that hurt more than the welts on my body.
I was "nobody, but a piece of shit", and as pathetic as it is, I never felt beautiful, I couldn't even believe it when mami said,
Because mami loves her fair skinned, dark-haired baby, but she was the only one who saw beauty,
And most people would say that when you have a face only a mom could love then you have no face at all.
Ridiculed, traumatized, convinced by people's lies, and alone so I had to make a world of my own quick.
I drowned myself in books and movies, not only about love, but all the ones about love had the same idea.
I had to be beautiful, I'd have a man that would tell me I'm beautiful everyday,
I'd be filled with problems and insecurities, and I would have a man that would love me anyway,
he'd want to tell the world, he'd be so deeply in love, we'd fight and we break up, but he'd always run and chase me before I could get away.
So I never cared about a man, I only cared about the love.
So I'd suck the love out of anyone who dared utter the word or act like they cared, even just a little.
I only wanted the love, but none of it was real so it never satisfied me.
So I spent a lot of time alone, still wanting the love, without any strings or unnecessary sexual advances or advancement of relationships.
I gave up on the idea that I had to be loved and then right when I almost completely seperated myself from the need, I fell.
I fell deeply into something toxic and all my passion for being alone and being alive turned into needing love again.
So now I need love and I can't turn away from the desire.
It burns within me at all times and I can't let the habit die.
I want to want more than love.
I guess I want love so bad because I have always felt I have lacked it.
Being attacked by, more than just your everyday bully.
I only knew love in the form of clenched fists slammed against my fair skin, or
Love in the form of words that hurt more than the welts on my body.
I was "nobody, but a piece of shit", and as pathetic as it is, I never felt beautiful, I couldn't even believe it when mami said,
Because mami loves her fair skinned, dark-haired baby, but she was the only one who saw beauty,
And most people would say that when you have a face only a mom could love then you have no face at all.
Ridiculed, traumatized, convinced by people's lies, and alone so I had to make a world of my own quick.
I drowned myself in books and movies, not only about love, but all the ones about love had the same idea.
I had to be beautiful, I'd have a man that would tell me I'm beautiful everyday,
I'd be filled with problems and insecurities, and I would have a man that would love me anyway,
he'd want to tell the world, he'd be so deeply in love, we'd fight and we break up, but he'd always run and chase me before I could get away.
So I never cared about a man, I only cared about the love.
So I'd suck the love out of anyone who dared utter the word or act like they cared, even just a little.
I only wanted the love, but none of it was real so it never satisfied me.
So I spent a lot of time alone, still wanting the love, without any strings or unnecessary sexual advances or advancement of relationships.
I gave up on the idea that I had to be loved and then right when I almost completely seperated myself from the need, I fell.
I fell deeply into something toxic and all my passion for being alone and being alive turned into needing love again.
So now I need love and I can't turn away from the desire.
It burns within me at all times and I can't let the habit die.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Is love really a three letter word?
The question is, are you ready for the inevitable?
The eventual flaws and misteps of a relationship that can't be fixed,
Because you don't really want to.
We take two steps and three steps forward
In exhange for 6 steps back.
For two more concrete steps to fight until someone steps back and falls to the floor
And on the floor is, unfortunately, usually
Me, crawling back.
This territory so unfamiliar outside of this,
but in this I'm just that
Crawling
Until the edge, then I hang on for dear you
Like you, are my life.
Like all of this wrong could someday be right.
I'm so tired of playing Bellona, goddess of war,
Pretending to be this warrior of love, for you, my god,
My love.
In my eyes, you are a supreme being
So angellic when you rest
So enthusiastic when you are, just. being. you.
And for this alone, I thank you.
I ask of you to see me for my worth,
Because I'll fight for you, and with you.
Until the end of time
Or atleast until the end of each day with you.
The eventual flaws and misteps of a relationship that can't be fixed,
Because you don't really want to.
We take two steps and three steps forward
In exhange for 6 steps back.
For two more concrete steps to fight until someone steps back and falls to the floor
And on the floor is, unfortunately, usually
Me, crawling back.
This territory so unfamiliar outside of this,
but in this I'm just that
Crawling
Until the edge, then I hang on for dear you
Like you, are my life.
Like all of this wrong could someday be right.
I'm so tired of playing Bellona, goddess of war,
Pretending to be this warrior of love, for you, my god,
My love.
In my eyes, you are a supreme being
So angellic when you rest
So enthusiastic when you are, just. being. you.
And for this alone, I thank you.
I ask of you to see me for my worth,
Because I'll fight for you, and with you.
Until the end of time
Or atleast until the end of each day with you.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Wind.
Long days, I’m trying to make things right.
Long days, I’m trying to get through them.
Long days, I’m stressing myself through them.
Long days, I’m floating through them.
I see wind, I hear wind, I feel wind,
And there’s this constant battle between me and it
And in it I feel so weak, but I keep going.
It pushes me back, my little body so insignificant against it’s large mass.
In a moment time slows, and I feel all of it.
It consumes all of the space around my body and it moves me.
My hair on ends, my feet to the ground, and my arms lifted slightly and I call out into this wind,
“Save me.” Nothing.
I call out once more, “Save me from everything I am becoming.”
I drop my head back, I look up into the sky, I bring my hands up behind my head and tug a little on my hair, but I keep moving.
There was no answer, but I knew it.
Time resumes its pace, and I stop.
I drop my arms, I look straight ahead, and I keep moving.
I see wind, I hear wind, I feel wind,
And it moves me.
Long days, I’m trying to get through them.
Long days, I’m stressing myself through them.
Long days, I’m floating through them.
I see wind, I hear wind, I feel wind,
And there’s this constant battle between me and it
And in it I feel so weak, but I keep going.
It pushes me back, my little body so insignificant against it’s large mass.
In a moment time slows, and I feel all of it.
It consumes all of the space around my body and it moves me.
My hair on ends, my feet to the ground, and my arms lifted slightly and I call out into this wind,
“Save me.” Nothing.
I call out once more, “Save me from everything I am becoming.”
I drop my head back, I look up into the sky, I bring my hands up behind my head and tug a little on my hair, but I keep moving.
There was no answer, but I knew it.
Time resumes its pace, and I stop.
I drop my arms, I look straight ahead, and I keep moving.
I see wind, I hear wind, I feel wind,
And it moves me.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Little Boisterous Woman
note: free write on the A train.
I’m not lyrically as equipt as the finest of these poets that stand here
Making words into elaborate forms of emotions
Making sure you can see each adjective and hold each noun
Be each noun, make sure you can feel it from neck up and… down, right into your heart and pump its way through your veins
Make you feel from your toes to your fingers so much so you feel like you can visualize yourself writing the words into the walls of your brain
And I can’t maintain a flow, I can’t rap, I can’t sing
I bring no different elements , I have no special words
My vocab is limited and I guess this is where it ends
I’m. just. kidding.
All I have are these fingers and I just found my voice
I’ve been floating over the sounds of life avoiding them so I hope you can hear me over the noise
Focus.
This is the only thing I can bring to you
Sweet vibrations, low like sound the sound of water washing up to shore while the people sleep and the moon watches over the sea
Smooth, like the touch of a lover
This is all I can bring to you
BUT THIS LITTLE VOICE CAN SCREAM SO LOUD
This little woman can reach her hands up high
And touch the clouds at the tiny height of 5’2… and a half
And I hope I never have to come back to the ground and feel and breathe and know that you are here listening to me
ARE you listening to me?!
Give me an ear, one day I’ll be someone
That’s what mami tells me
Give me an ear, one day I’ll be someone
You just wait, that’s what mami tells me
I only have my voice, I know its not much
but it will be.
I’m not lyrically as equipt as the finest of these poets that stand here
Making words into elaborate forms of emotions
Making sure you can see each adjective and hold each noun
Be each noun, make sure you can feel it from neck up and… down, right into your heart and pump its way through your veins
Make you feel from your toes to your fingers so much so you feel like you can visualize yourself writing the words into the walls of your brain
And I can’t maintain a flow, I can’t rap, I can’t sing
I bring no different elements , I have no special words
My vocab is limited and I guess this is where it ends
I’m. just. kidding.
All I have are these fingers and I just found my voice
I’ve been floating over the sounds of life avoiding them so I hope you can hear me over the noise
Focus.
This is the only thing I can bring to you
Sweet vibrations, low like sound the sound of water washing up to shore while the people sleep and the moon watches over the sea
Smooth, like the touch of a lover
This is all I can bring to you
BUT THIS LITTLE VOICE CAN SCREAM SO LOUD
This little woman can reach her hands up high
And touch the clouds at the tiny height of 5’2… and a half
And I hope I never have to come back to the ground and feel and breathe and know that you are here listening to me
ARE you listening to me?!
Give me an ear, one day I’ll be someone
That’s what mami tells me
Give me an ear, one day I’ll be someone
You just wait, that’s what mami tells me
I only have my voice, I know its not much
but it will be.
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