Good things to be happy about

Also known as: what I'm thankful for...

1. Not wearing a bra!! Those things can be so constricting.

   

   I brushed my hair for you bitches. Not wearing a bra, yo! And lovin' dat red light.

2. I've lost weight (but am not at all underweight! Yay 113 lbs!!!).
3. So far everyone has adored my Christmas presents to them (the best thing about Christmas).
4. I'm drinking hot cocoa! Seriously the best mood-lifter eva.



Plus, how cute is my mug?

5. Just as I was feeling as moody as ever, my brother invited me to watch Two Towers with him. Perfect timing, perfect movie, perfect company.
6. Watching LOTR, I've come to the conclusion that no matter how terrible my family life is... Hey, at least I don't have to be delivering the ring of power to Mount Doom. 

   

   And hey, at least I'm not Gretchen Wieners...

7. Although I miss my boyfriend very dearly, I will get to see him in two weeks! Exactly fourteen days, possibly less if I manage to get the earlier flight I want.
8. My skin has been clearing up a lot lately.
9. My booty is still sore from working out a few nights ago. Same with my abs and thighs. Glad to be getting my body in shape!
10. I got some absolutely wonderful Christmas presents! I actually had one of the best Christmas' ever. Presents included: astrology watch, fox hat, elephant shirt, AND JEFFERY CAMPBELL SNEAKER WEDGES!

    

    New Favorite top.
    

    

    I'm actually obsessed.

11. Due to a 50% coupon, I was able to buy my boyfriend some really nice gifts. (One of which is normally $55!!!) I'm in the process of personalizing them to give to him.
12. Even though it sucks that I'm not with my boyfriend right now like I could have been, not seeing him this weekend means I have more time to perfect this present..
13. I love giving gifts. Can I just give gifts forever? Can I be Santa Claus? Please!
14. I finished Slaughterhouse-Five last night! I'm devoting this break to reading, writing, and making art. 

    

    Casual fireside reading (throwback to Christmas day).

15. Monday I plan on dying my hair dark brown! I've been talking about this for months, and wanting to do it for ever longer. Maybe I'll finally get to have my indie rocker muse phase or whatnot. Pretty much I'm going to fuck shit up and love myself.
16. For getting mono during my first semester, missing classes for two weeks, and struggling through midterms, my grades are excellent! I didn't make Dean's List (yet), but I still managed to get excellent grades and I'm going to make Dean's List next semester for sure.

    

    I don't know my French grade yet, but even with an A, it's impossible to have a 3.75 GPA..

17. My new majors and minor are incredibly fantastic! I'm more than ecstatic to get to study Film and Philosophy in depth, and will forever adore my minor in Creative Writing.
18. I made $$$ last night babysitting. But even if I didn't make money, babysitting makes me incredibly happy. It's possibly my biggest confidence booster. I simply love spending time with and taking care of kids. They're so cute and lovely and ughhh I love babysitting.
19. This scholarship thing... Can't really go into detail but it's a lot to be happy and thankful for!
20. THE LOVELY PEOPLE IN MY LIFE. Wow. Even though I've been in a lot of shit moods lately, my friends have really stood by me. I'm most excited to get together with them and dye our hair (my friends want to dip-dye and I just want dark brown, yo). But really I could not express how much it means to have support during such a dark time. I've been encouraged countless times to do what makes me happy, even if that means paying all that money for an earlier flight to get home to Colorado. And not only have my friends been supportive, wow, my boyfriend has been so incredibly... Wow. I'm always scared that opening up and showing that I'm in pain will scare people away. That being human will make people realize that I'm not worth dealing with or something. Not worth their time. But here I am being human, being completely imperfect, and still being a part of something beautiful. My relationship constantly astounds me and always fills my heart with joy. I am happy.

    

    Wearing his heavenly sweatshirt. God, I miss him.
    

    

    I feel the need to protect his identity.
    

    

    My present to whomever reads this. Merry Christmas, a picture of my hot boy toy.

And now a lovely cover of Gravity by my dear friend, Alex:

I'm crying harder

I'm crying harder and I hate when you don't say good night. I hate when any conversation is left hanging in the air. Good nights are so significant because they aren't forever, they aren't for long. Good byes, farewells.... They have too much weight. So much that it worries me. Good nights are simple and sweet and meant for safe and happy dreams. They're almost a promise to speak again.

I don't even know what I'm saying but I'm crying harder and I don't know what to do with myself.

Silent crying scares me. Not being able to make the tears stop. I feel so trapped here. I'm suffocating. I wish I could run away. Never have I been more depressed in my life. It is as though I had finally escaped, as though I had finally broken free from my family and found happiness in college. Only to return and realize that no matter how hard I try, I'll always be stuck here. Sometimes I think I want to run away for good. Flee the country and cut off all ties with them. Maybe then I'd be able to get to bed without crying myself to sleep. I don't feel safe here, I'm constantly walking on broken glass. I just want to be held and told that everything is okay, that it's going to be okay. But you're not here. And it's not okay. It's not okay that being here affects me so drastically. I automatically revert back to dreams of escaping, dreams of running away.

For the first time in my life I had stopped dreaming of running, I had stopped running altogether. And it barely lasted. I'm already back where I started, running from this house and these people. I'm not okay.

All I Want For Christmas

All I want for Christmas is an earlier flight home to Boulder. I hate it here. I want these nightmares to stop, I want to finally fall asleep in your arms again. I miss feeling safe, I miss your lips. I hate it here. I hate how depressing everything here is. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it here. I don't feel safe. I'm sad always. All I ever do I cry. This isn't home, this will never be home. I want to go home. I miss being happy. I miss being me. I hate that I'm crying myself to sleep every night. I hate it here.

I'm in I-want-to-end-this-before-you-hurt-me mode. Realizing that I care way too much and doubting you care the way I do and ultimately worrying and crying nonstop. It sucks. Especially since I don't want to cut off ties with you. I want you. I just want me too. I want to protect myself. If I stop talking to you then I'm in control, except you make me happy and the idea of trying to cut you out of my life is painful to even think about. And when I'm with my family, if you can even call them that, I'm such a mess. I'm worried you'll hurt me now, now when I'm already down. I'm so vulnerable. Please don't hurt me.

I'm actually in break up mode because I'm terrified. I'm so scared to let you in. But I like you and I don't want to lose you but I'm afraid you'll leave me. I'm scared. I'm so scared and I feel so alone.

I'm sorry for being timid. I wish you were here to hold me. I just want to exist with you.

Core

I just received a letter I wrote to myself over the summer, while on a mission trip. I don't know if this sounds incredibly selfish or whatnot, but I wrote about how I need to learn to appreciate myself. That's one of the things everyone told me that week: to appreciate myself, that I don't appreciate myself enough.
So here I am, sitting in bed, in New Jersey, trying to appreciate myself. And I can't do it. I can't fucking do it. I got back here Thursday night. I don't call this place home. Colorado is my home. My mom has already spent two days yelling at me. To an extreme amount. How can I appreciate myself? She makes it clear that I take things for granted, she says that I think I deserve better than everyone else, she tells me that I don't do enough for our family.
I try so hard, but clearly my efforts are fruitless. I don't even know what to do with myself at this point, I'm stuck here for another three weeks. I just want to go home, home to Colorado. At the end of this trip I plan on threatening to not come back. I could find a job in Colorado or go home with a friend, I don't care. Honestly, I'd do anything to not be back here. They make me feel worthless. I try so hard and they make me feel like dirt or less than that even.
Sometimes I feel like I'm the core of the earth. So much is on my shoulders, practically everything, yet everyone tends to forget about the effort I put in.
Yesterday night my mom threw a fit at me. I got home from a casual coffee evening with two friends, came in the house, and went to my room. And suddenly there was my mom, shrilling. Her rude words pierced the darkness, I had yet to even turn on a light. "You slammed the door! Veronica's sick and asleep and you woke her up!" or something along those lines. It's gotten to the point where she sounds like a siren, the words lose their weight and she's just sound, going off at me every chance she gets. I knew I hadn't slammed a door but I accepted it and moved on. This morning my sister revealed that my mom's screaming had woken up. Well great, her waking up wasn't my fault, but my mom's screaming was still my fault.
Then this morning my mom asked me when I was going to get my hair cut. I was excited and said after we eat. This was less than fifteen minutes ago. She pulled out a coupon for Supercuts and told me I was going to pay for my hair cut. It's been almost eight months since I've gotten my hair cut, and yes, I was a bit upset that I had downgraded to Supercuts. My hair is a mess and I don't know how to take care of it and I wanted a good hair cut. So maybe I acted a bit childish saying that, but hey, if I'm going to pay for my hair cut, shouldn't I have a say in where I get it done? To which my head proceeded to explode from the sound that escaped her lips. "You're not an adult! You're not better than everyone else!" Thank you, mother... I do happen to be eighteen and I never said I was. Once again the words jumble together. At moments like these, I've realized, it doesn't even matter what she says. I guess that's why I suck at writing dialogue and can't put conversations together to write a play. The words don't reach my ears, they only reach my body. They attack me and beat me till I cry. "You have no sense of money! You think you deserve everything! I spend so much money on you and you don't appreciate it at all!!" I spent $80 on my mom's Christmas present. I'm actually broke because I spent about $300 on Christmas presents, and I've been very conscious of my money since then. I promise whoever is bothering to read this whole load of depressing, I do appreciate everything my mother does. I try so hard to keep her happy. And yes, it was childish of me to "want more," or really to voice my want, but if she says I'm not an adult, why get mad when I'm being my apparently childish self? I don't know.

I just want my mom to be happy. But it's clear I don't do enough to make her so. At all. So, no, I don't appreciate myself. I doubt I ever will. But at the end of this break, if not sooner, I am threatening to never come back. I will figure out a way to pay for school (even though, hey, I'm emancipated! Paying for college all on my own, with my own money, except that I never see this money/have no control over it/it only pays housing and tuition so I have to buy everything else, even tampons and toothpaste, with my own money/my money could be gone at any minute) on my own. I got offered a scholarship and I dunno. I just can't do this anymore.
I can't take shutting myself in my room to cry. On a daily basis.
I don't even have a lock on my door, so anyone could waltz right in and laugh in my face.

Great. If I'm the core of such a beautiful planet, what happens when I'm gone. Does everything fall apart? (with my family, yes).



I want to go home.

repeating

so much shit going on in my head. i just want to escape with you.

Love; it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free. Be more like the man you were made to be.

I know that yesterday I posted a simple quote and it may have seemed meaningless, in some ways it was meaningless. It was significantly beautiful and heartfelt, but not necessarily anything pertaining to my life right now. This quote, however... This song lyric is everything I feel right now. It's my heart bursting and my emotions welling and tears spilling over for only the happiest reasons. I once wrote one here that the day I could speak/write openly about my parent's divorce would be life changing. Now I can say that my life has been changed. I finally feel safe enough to open up and I opened up and it's done amazing things for me. You have done amazing things for me.

I'm finally courageous. No longer scared. I've always been a lion but now I've got my c-c-courage. Now I can stand up tall and scream my thoughts and laugh and smile and make something of myself. Make something worth your while.

Love has set me free.

(I'msortofalsolaughingtomyselfathowcornythiswholepostis.....I'mwaytoosentimental)

You’re allowed to be sad, but you aren’t allowed to be too sad. If you’re always sad when you think about me, then how can you remember me? -Sally Nicholls, Ways To Live Forever

What Am I Afraid Of?

I'm afraid of you. I'm terrified of letting you in because (what if) you don't like who i am (inside). and this is when my heart starts racing, stops beating, the in between. me fearing you and this relationship. because what if i want something else, someone else (nothing lasts forever) and sometimes we need a (change) new day or place. but then i really like (you) and this and us and (you) just make me so happy i think (you) may just make me (glow) brighter. but really i'm just petrified by this idea, the idea, (idea of) ending up like my parents. because they have hurt me in more ways than i can illustrate with the flick of my tongue and (sting of) my words. and i don't want to do that, i don't want to do that to anyone else. i don't want to be that kind of (monster) that tears apart its children's lives. i want my kids to be happy (like you make me). and i know this is the future (and the future is forever away) but the future is now and i think a hella lot and sometimes (i can't help but wonder) sometimes i get caught up in my thoughts but it's because i want so many big things and (i want to make big things) i want to be a part of something big. and you make me feel like that's possible. is it possible. (possibly). and that (hope), you as the flicker of light in this darkened state of unconscious that i feel (i'm stuck watching the world pass me by, but i want to be a part of it), that i've always felt having watched my parents. i don't want to (feel) alone anymore!
i want you to open my eyes and sometimes i think you already have begun to and it scares me because you give me so much hope but what happens when you're gone? nothing lasts forever. but some things last long enough to leave their mark on the world. i want to be a part of something big, something that leaves a mark, i want to be a part of the world (with you).

This is why I hate people like you. You whose eyes are closed to the world of the words I'm trying to speak and the way I'm trying to paint the sky. You are choking me with your pudgy hands and chubby face. I want to scream. I want to tear out my hair and let out a bellow, to have the fire escape my throat, to burn the bridge between us because I cannot stand you. I want to punch, to create a home of purples and yellows, of the sky's complimentary colors upon your face because you don't understand how rude you are. I feel completely alone and I want to make you pay. I'm out for revenge.

This loser thinks he's special because I wrote of his breath that rattles like the smell of weed and toothpaste and told stories of his strong arms to my friend from home. Those icy blue eyes that are so bright they blind me. The way these eyes glaze over in the most serious fashion as he tilts his head back in ecstasy. I love getting under his skin and making him squirm. Finding that terribly ticklish spot. God I love the way you move (with me).

I stole your shirt

I haven't had feelings for a boy in a while, so this is all new to me. But I like you. And I kept your shirt so I can sleep next to you even when you're not here. Sweet dreams, my dove.

Degausser

de·gauss [dee-gous]— vb

1. to neutralize the magnetic field of a ship's hull (as a protection against magnetic mines) using equipment producing an opposing magnetic field

2. another word for demagnetize

de·gauss·er [dee-gou-ser] —n

1. something that degausses.

“God, I’ve missed the chronic taste, of cheap gin upon your lips; entwined with mine, like cauterized skin,” she gnawed her words, watching him tremble as they lingered. Her body convulsed, slithering into a state of ecstasy, as she was finally able to indulge in her addiction. Only at 38,000 feet could she dig her talons into the haunting cavort that allowed her soul to slip away into the present; her cold hands grasping at life, aching to have a pulse. It was during the scattered, shuddering breaths like his that she discovered herself a vampire, sinking teeth into her prey. Only, she knew she could create destruction far better than any myth, as though there was an individual tempest brimming in each of her fingertips. She could feel his body clenching as she watched the pupils in his muddied blue eyes shrink as he gaped at her. “Is this supposed to be her hell or mine?” he asked himself.

Despite his inner cry for help: the roiling of his murky moons, back and forth; the studying her face, praying that she would take pity on him... He was completely mute, unable to get down on his knees and beg. Something about her had a hint of dreadful familiarity, one that caused him to feel an uncomfortable aching in his bones. There was a searing echo of her words, words that his memory had no recollection of but his body responded to, cringing. Her voice was as harsh as the grinding of teeth, like the primitive sound of fingernails scraping a chalkboard, “I love you so much, but do me a favor, baby. Don’t reply.”

She didn’t have to cackle to make him cower, instead fixing her shrewd, soulless eyes upon him as she considered the sadistic possibilities. Her hollow-cheeked, gaunt neck dangled closer to his and he felt her breath tickle his face. Naturally, his body reacted as a flower blossoming at her touch, his lips pursing at the inhalation of her sickly-sweet, syruped perfume.  She was a putrid bouquet of poppies rife with the musk hint of decay. His eyelids fluttered shut. Determined to abscond from her allure he forced them back open. Much to her inhuman pleasure, she knew he was no degausser. Her grey fingers snatched his collar and she brought his face to meet hers, locking lips with him again. This time he felt her underneath his skin. This time he gave in.

Unveiling the enigma he had exerted himself to conceal, his thoughts spoke for him, a new mantra: “I’ll let the bad parts in, I’ll let the bad parts in, I’ll let the bad parts in.” Now that she had his attention, she turned frigid; her pale eyes fell upon him and froze his heart with her wretched gaze. He was paralyzed; she spoke.

“I could be anyone. The silent wind grazing your arms and sending shivers down your back, the sound of your pulsating heart throbbing, echoing inside your head. I could be anything. I could be envious... So I am. Every time I stand up no one looks my way. Am I a soulless body, dragging itself through the day? I delicately place my tongue between my teeth and bite. Hard. What does it feel like to be real? I watch you slouch in your seat, the small opening of your lips. You are the predictable book that I flip through, hardly bothering to even glance over the pictures. But I? I am the book that's never even left the shelf. Do you enjoy watching me collect dust? I swallow, the sound of your footsteps echo through the hollow hallways, passing through me as though I am dissolving into the sky.

‘Who are you?’ Your voice tries to coo calmly, but I can hear the desperation clinging in your throat. You're trying to claw your way out of this darkness, but do you really want to see the light? I told you that I could be anyone; I've laid out my whole being for you and am now waiting, waiting for you to see what you've always seen, but a second time. And when I give you an answer, don't be afraid to meet me halfway, you are so close to escaping the poison of your own mind.

I can hear your heavy breath and I know the truth. I would tell you not to bother with the reverberation of your words, but, ‘Who are-who are you?’ they double over themselves too immediately to be heard distinctly. Do you feel me now? I could scratch open your chest, watch you heave as your secrets pour out, an unending tale of surreptitious sin. And you, oh you, you thought you would win.

Have you ever come across a serpent devouring its own tail? I can tell you desire to make something of yourself. But what are you willing to risk, would you eat your own tail for the chance of eternal life? Stop wringing your wrists and listen to me, listen to the world, as you know you never have before.

You have no feelings in your brain, it is all embodied. So why try to transcend that body? To overcome your own creation. The king must die, but there are consequences with the slicing of veins and the way your eyes widen to try and take in the world.”

Perspiration dripping down his face he awoke with a scream, terrified of the dream that burdens him every time he flies. “Are you okay, sir? Is there anything I can get for you?” the slender stewardess looked at him with wide eyes. He immediately felt his heart pulsate and some of the blood return to his dead face for he could not believe the sight of life. “Finally, eyes with spirit and warmth,“ he thought, letting out all the air that had built up in his chest, only then realizing that he had been holding his breath. “No,” he spoke softly as he turned down the empathy he so dearly craved, “I’m fine, thank you.”

For the first time, he paused to take in his surroundings and felt relieved to have sat in first class, where he did not disturb as many people. He pulled up the blind, brought his chair upright, and excused himself to the bathroom. He was surprised to come face to face with a raw-boned, sallow monster. A sweaty mess looked at him with two muddy oceans of panicked eyes for a long moment before he realized that it was only the mirror, a reflection of his disheveled self. “It was only a dream, it was only a dream, it was only a dream,” he spoke his mantra in a stern voice and splashed frigid water onto his solemn face. He was alive.

“Could I please get a gin and tonic?” he asked the stewardess with a grin as he settled down into his seat. He leaned back and sank into the safety of his chair, once again allowing his eyes to scan the room he had awoken in. They stopped, his eyes having fell upon the face of another passenger, a woman he had not noticed previously. She looked as though she had just gone for a run, heaving, gasping for any air she could get into her lungs. Feeling his leer, she twisted around, allowing him to see her alarmed eyes. He recognized them, the eyes. Although they were brown, the eyes fostered the same anxiety he had seen moments ago, in the mirror.

A jingle danced through the air and reached his ears, the same haunting voice he’d heard in his dream, “I’d die for you one time, but never again.”

the girl that lay in another world

taken by the ever lovely Sarah Robinson

Sometimes I want to slip through my chair, through the floor which becomes the ceiling, through the grass and dirt and homes of the deceased, decomposed. Sometimes I want to slip through the caverns of inky water to the center of the earth so my body can float on a new sea: of lava, of molten rock, because maybe then my pulse will catch up with the breath in my mouth. Maybe then I will open my eyes and find myself awake. I am two delicate feet, cloudlike, drifting through this world as a dream. I am trapped in my own dream, terrified to reach out and actually touch the world. I hear tales of the shivers a soft breeze will give you, the touch of someone's fingers tiptoeing across your skin. I hear myths but I still have yet to witness them. Am I just a body? What with no mind, no heart to feel. I know that when lips collide against mine it is called a "kiss," though I have never felt the scattered words pass between our mouths. I know that when you look at me with the fire in your eyes you might call it "lust," but the only fire I've felt was in that the dark of the depth of the earth that I've clawed my way to reach. This is my attempt at running away, my soul and body dividing where there is no divine and in this new world I can be godly. With shaking hands I steady my stoic face and grab handfuls of dandelions, wishes scattering among a breeze that I only know is there because I can see the seeds falling out of my grasp. I have created for myself a sanctuary of saturated colors among the veins of the earth. I am waiting in vain.

tension

the split second in between heart beats when I am unable to hold your gaze and my eyes drop, biting my lip I slowly bring my eyes back up to you before again looking away. Your heart wrenching blue eyes are moments before mine, and I crave nothing more than to break the silence by pulling your face to mine and stooping to breathe in your breath. I imagine you taste like weed and toothpaste, a combination that only makes my head spin when it's coming from you. When you trace maps on my skin, my whole body shivers, I have goosebumps down to my bare bones. Somehow the way your arm drapes over my body and pulls me in tight makes me feel at home, the comforter engulfing us like a warm sea, with you I'm safe. With my head on your chest I can hear the loud thump and I wonder if the erratic beat is because you're nervous too, are you nervous too? In between beats I look up into your eyes for the smallest moment. If only I could find it in me to kiss you.

I feel alone, so dreary and alone, and I hate sleep, and I miss you. I hate falling asleep alone, to my own heart beat. I wish you were here again, you arm draped around me and I could feel your heart beating against me. It made me feel safe and happy. But when I am alone in the darkness, every fear creeps under my skin. I become the forgotten, the caged. I become a woman of sin and sadness. In the blackened sky I cannot seem to forgive myself, I only see the bad. I am the hated gestalt, and you should never bother to call my name. Because I slouch in the inky air and let the tears roll. It is not worth trying to pick me up, as I am only a piece of garbage. In the darkness. I hate sleep when I am alone with my thoughts because I know I am nothing. Not even a second thought. I would do anything to check your pulse but you're not here. I want to grab your hand. Where do you want to go? If I squeeze my glazzies shut tight enough, will I see you?
Will I open them to that marvelous blue and crooked smile and crows feet? Will I open them to you?

I miss your body nestled against mine. I miss your breath and your mind.

Don't Let Me Down.

To be utterly honest, as of recently I've been getting very sick of you. I feel as though you treat me almost differently than everyone else. You take me for granted. You cut me off. You feel the need to bask in light. What you don't realize is that I'd be more than willing to let you, if you didn't go about it in such a vicious way. I feel uncomfortable around you. You're always trying to get me to care about you and worship you to such a degree that I've run out of ways to respond to you. The things you say... They all sound the same. I'm tired. I'm so exhausted. You always feel the need to be better at everything and it's draining me. Being a know it all isn't attractive. I'm sorry if I'm a bad friend but you're wearing me out. I wish you'd open your eyes a little bit. Stop talking about yourself all the time and maybe listen.

I could be anyone

I could be anyone. The silent wind grazing your arms and sending shivers down your back, the sound of your pulsating heart throbbing, echoing inside your head, the bright green pencil the person who sits next to you uses every day. I could be anything. I could be envious... So I am. Every time I stand up no one looks my way. Am I a soulless body, dragging its self through the day? I put my tongue between my teeth and bite. Hard. What does it feel like to be real? I watch you slouch in your seat, your eyes fluttering, open and closed. You are the predictable book that I flip through, hardly bothering to even glance over the pictures. But I. I am the book that's never even left the shelf. Do you enjoy watching me collect dust? I swallow, the sound of your footsteps echo through the hollow hallways, passing through me as though I am dissolving into the sky.
"Who are you?" Your voice tries to coo calmly, but I can hear the desperation clinging in your throat. You're trying to claw your way out of this darkness, but do you really want to see the light? I told you that I could be anyone, I've laid my whole being for you and am now waiting, waiting for you to see what you've always seen, but a second time. And when I give you an answer, don't be afraid to meet me halfway, you are so close to escaping the poison of your own mind.
I can hear your heavy breath and I know the truth. I would tell you not to bother with the reverberation your words, but, "Who are-who are you?" they double over themselves too immediately to be heard distinctly. Do you feel me now? I could scratch open your chest, watch you heave as your secrets pour out, an unending tale of clandestine sin. And you, oh you, you thought you would win.
Have you ever come across a serpent devouring its own tail? I can tell you desire to make something of yourself. But what are willing to risk, would you eat your own tail for the chance of eternal life? Stop wringing your wrists and listen to me, listen to the world as you know you never have before.

If you do anything today, let it be watching this...

I promise you, if you take five minutes out of your fay to watch this... You will be the happiest person ever.

Mise en abîme

This is called... I hate the way I let you do the things you do. I've been thinking about how to write this post for the past few days. And I was ready for bed more than two hours ago, trying to get to bed early, but had too much on my mind to even daydream of falling asleep at a reasonable hour. So here I am trying to let out all the things I want to say.
Did you know that I hate getting physically close to people? No, you didn't. I know you all think I love sex and use it as some form of a refugee (because I've gotten a comment about this). But actually, I'm not partaking in any kind of sexual acts. I'm abstinent. And it's because I've been raised to somehow be scared of it. To fear being intimate. Every time I try anything I feel terrible afterwards. (For the record, this has nothing to do with Faith or God. It's me and my image of myself.) I feel dirty. I feel slutty. I wish I could indulge but I can't. I never could. If I ever try, later that night it keeps me up and I just scream at myself in my head, over and over, "whore! whore!" It's funny because I know I'm not. I know kissing a boy isn't a terrible thing but I always feel as though it is. I always feel as though I'm breaking some unspoken, universal law. Thou shall not engage intimately with anyone. Is this my curse? An inability to let myself go and do what feels right in the moment? An inability to really let anyone in at all?
I'm a big flirt. I'll admit, I like the attention I receive from guys who are interested in me. It makes me feel wanted (at least physically wanted), which is something I've hardly ever felt. I always feel out of place. Always. With my "family", "friends", etc... I feel intellectually and emotionally off. I simply don't fit in. So I flirt to get attention that I feel I don't receive otherwise. But then I can't bring myself to follow through. For starters, I'm attracted to almost everyone when I first meet them. I love everything to at least a very tiny extent. I can honestly find love in everything. But the attraction always fades away, always. So I feel bad letting a boy get close to me, because what happens when it fades? I've been hurt and I don't want to hurt other people. I love the chase but once I get them, I'm bored. And I love being chased, but sure enough once they get me, they're bored as well. So sometimes I'll flirt with a guy that I'm genuinely interested in, get the chance to, you know, hook up with him, and turn him down because I don't want to feel slutty or like I could have hurt their feelings afterwards. Especially if there's drinking involved, I'd like to think that I'm worth more than a drunken hook up. Which is honestly silly because in some ways, I hate myself. In most ways. But still, let's pretend I think I'm worth more than a drunken hook up. I'm sure you're all wondering why I don't just get a boyfriend and feel wanted and be happy with my life. I can't help that I'm a silly adolescent with hormones and I don't want to be tied down to one person. I'm a freshman in college and I meet new people on a daily basis, I'm attracted to all these new people when I first meet them. Almost everyone I meet. There's something special about everyone, and I can find it. I'm not ready to settle down. Besides, it's so easy to get hurt in a relationship. If I have trouble being physically intimate with others, what are the chances of me being comfortable with emotional intimacy?
Hah.
Now to further explain myself, where I have been misunderstood... I received this comment:

I don't know you, I don't know your life, but I'm inclined to think that you're seeking strength in the wrong places. Namely, in other people instead of yourself (and, if you believe in that sort of thing, god). I have a challenge for you: celibacy for a year. For six months. For the rest of the semester. Whatever you choose. Challenge yourself. Cause I honestly believe the feeling of victory after you've fought your hardest is better than an orgasm.

The reason why it comes off as though I find "strength" in sex, is because honestly, in some ways, I wish I could. I crave carelessness and ignorance, not that I would fake ignorance to find bliss. But sometimes I wish I could. Especially on my blog where I pretty much vent about everything that bothers me ever. I wish I could be ignorant and lose myself in physical intimacy, because I cannot find it within myself to be emotionally or intellectually intimate with anyone. So yes, I do sometimes wish I could have "the ignorance of mindless sex," as I wrote on the post that received the above comment, but that's because I really just wish I could be intimate in general.

I feel very, very alone. And it's a terrible feeling. I break down and cry a lot. A lot. Because I don't know what to do with myself. What do I do with myself?
Nothing. I can do nothing but slowly disappear, until I become a ghost of this world. I'm falling through the floors and ceilings, hoping to slip into a place I belong. I am not of this world.



And now a variety of Skins gifs and pictures that honestly express how I feel:

I don't even want a boyfriend...

I just want someone who wants to hang out all the time and thinks I'm the best person in the world and wants to have sex with only me... -Hannah, Girls

I'm on edge about everything. And it's true, I really don't want a boyfriend. I don't want to be dealing with boys and getting emotionally attached. I'd rather be focusing on myself and my schoolwork and my future. But I still want someone in my life like that... In some ways, I do want friends with benefits, but in some ways I don't. Friends with benefits can be messy and there's always one person giving more of them self. Maybe this time I want to be the person receiving more... As selfish as that sounds. Really I'm just thinking out loud here. What do I want? Cuddling and kisses and sly remarks made from only eye contact. I like those heart-pounding secret relationships with stolen words and lip biting and oh the things you say with your body language. I like the built up passion in tension, and I want you throwing rocks at my window to request my presence. I want you to want me. Is that too much to ask? I want you, so be brave and want me too.

ps- I'm lonely.

Bill Nye 2012! (and voting ootd!)

I mean seriously, who wouldn't write in this beaut?!

Bill Nye impersonating an alien.

Bill Nye looking snazzy in that bow tie.

The wise words of Bill Nye!

So today is voting day! I didn't actually write in Bill Nye, although I love him dearly. And as a matter of fact, I did not vote for the person he endorsed (President Obama). I am proud to say that for my first ever election, I voted for someone I genuinely believe in... Gary Johnson.

This is in fact a picture of me meeting Gary Johnson! Woooo!

Here are some reasons why I voted for Libertarian candidate Gary Johnson:
Gary Johnson operated as governor of a state with 2:1 of the legislature of the opposite party for two terms, and in those two terms turned a one billion dollar deficit into a one billion dollar surplus without raising a penny in taxes. No other candidate has started his own business and expanded it to employ over 1,000 workers. He wants to completely end the war on drugs. He believes that gay marriage is a constitutional right. He received more "torches" on the ACLU Civil Liberties report card than any candidate. He wants to abolish the government's ability of surveillance, torture, and racial profiling, and take away some of the power the government has, giving it back to the people. He's prochoice of course. Also, he climbed Mount Everest. :) Many people tell me that my vote won't count but if he gets 5% of votes, there's a significant chance third party candidates will be included in the debates in the next election. So my vote is for the future.

And now onto the fun stuff! I'm not usually one for outfit of the day posts, but I did dress for 'MURICA today!

 

my favorite bumble bee socks!

My shirt is from Francesca's, pants are from Ann Taylor Loft, shoes are converse, snazzy bumble bee socks are actually Burt's Bees, and my sticker is from voting! Hip hip hooray for voting! I live in a swing state so this is extra exciting over here in my fox hole. But I believe that everyone who can vote, should vote because every vote counts. So go out there and get your votin' on!

Patriotic as eva,
Foxy!

Weekend Magic!

So, this weekend has been particularly nice. As I write this, I feel really relieved because in some ways, I feel as though I'm finally starting to find my niche here. I went to Target yesterday and bought some lovely items for my ever so lovely room! I got some dish ware, which consists of a bowl and a cup, peach mango seltzer, delicious trail mix, dark chocolate chips that I added to my trail mix, some raspberry jam, a warm pear drink thing, cookie dough, some paper plates and plastic silverware, and some new make up! Overall, yesterday was really quite splendid. I spent the day shopping with the girl who is possibly my closest friend in college, Alli. We joked around in Target and had way too much fun in Victoria's Secret. We're trying to get our friends who have a house off campus to host a Lingerie themed party! As it turns out, we're both relatively obsessed with underwear. No big deal. At all. Going into Victoria's Secret was incredibly exciting because they had all their Christmas lingerie out!! It made me want a boyfriend. Sort of. Not really even. I just want lingerie. Christmas... Lingerie. Everything was so sparkly! I totally felt like I'd be an ornament in some of it. So exciting. Thus, a boyfriend would be an excuse to buy some! Alli has a boyfriend, but we're both planning on getting Christmas Lingerie no matter what. Do these not make you want to put a bow on your head and get comfy under the christmas tree! To be a gift for someone special, or hell, just hop on the tree and be an ornament?! Here are some of my favorite sparkly pieces...

 Gosh, I started to totally get into the Christmas spirit. It's not that I'm skipping over Thanksgiving, because I absolutely love love love Thanksgiving. My excitement is over this time of year. Halloween into Thanksgiving into Christmas. It's all so magical and astonishing. Breathtaking. And I cannot wait to be home for Thanksgiving! I love getting to see my whole family and pigging out on delicious food and playing football together. This is why Autumn is my favorite season. And why the line "it's the most wonderful time of the year," (pertaining to the season of Christmas) is so unbelievably true! Anyway, more about the weekend... Alli and I ended up in Starbucks, where I flirted with the barista and actually got a free treat! I also told him that I was going to marry him. Again, no big deal. But he was totally fun and cute and I'm going to go back and visit him sometime.
Eventually Alli and I ended up in my room taking pictures of ourselves. See here....

And my personal favorite........

I even got to talk to one of my best friends from home, Doug, on the phone last night!! He's one of my favorite people, so of course I told him all about my Christmas spirit and the Christmas lingerie I am in dire need of. You think I'm joking, but Doug and I are very, very open with each other! We also talked about our pancake movie night over Thanksgiving break (I CAN'T WAIT) and this essay he wrote on existentialism and all these tiny little things that made my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I love Douglas. And Alli. Saturday was the perfect reminder of all the little things that make me absolutely ecstatic about living life.

Then today... I spent a significant amount of today rearranging and organizing my room, and I must say, it's making me beam. (and sneeze, apparently!) My bed is in the perfect place and the book shelf is all neat and wonderful, my posters look fantastic. I only have to fold my clothes and hang my lights and my room is done! My roommate moved out (which I honestly could not be happier about) and now my bed is perfectly in this one corner and it's so comfy and nice. I love being by the window and getting the perfect breeze while I sleep and waking up to the sunshine and everything. I'm so glad with how my room came out and it's making me feel much more productive. Suddenly I want to get ahead in my classes, it's quite fantastic. I also got to play with handcuffs today. My friends were joking around and handcuffed me and my friend Zach together. Then I got handcuffed to a railing. So then we handcuffed Zach to the girl's bathroom door. And now I have the handcuffs in my room. Scandalous. I love college! Plus I'm just feeling really good about myself and everything. In this moment, I could not be happier. I want to do great things (and wear great underwear).

It's beginning to look a lot like... Pure joy. I'm so glad to be in my skin.

xo,
Foxy!

Saturday's a Quiet Riot

I am the breath you beg yourself to keep, the one you try to lock away behind your lips, a prison to hold my effervescent body, oh the way I move. I am the ghostly hue of purple and blue, the silky sheets made so fine they slither around your body as though they are a fluid. The rhythm of your heart beating, the slow crashing of waves, the opening and closing of doors. Sometimes you wonder where your mind went, a dragon getting lost in the smoky haze it created its self. Icy shivers sent trembling through your veins, my nails against your delicate skin. You are the flower blooming in slow motion and I the camera capturing the moment. I bite my lip slowly, as it does a little wave from under my teeth, finally releasing it. Your eyelids droop in a long instant, slowly getting heavier and approaching the ground, only to flutter back open. I watch as your head falls against the wall, your body seems to be swallowed by the bed you sink into, a shadow falling through the world. My hand reaches up, my fingers grazing my scalp and running through my hair, grasping at any remainder of sanity. I watch the muscles in your neck relax as you arch your back and stretch out, your mouth falling into a tiny oh. A deep breath and our bodies breathe as one, up down motion, the sea pushing and pulling at our backbones. I am the wind that steals your blood flow and turns it out onto the world, rivers and streams, ponds and marshes. One must feed the children of the world.

I can already tell that this is going to wear me out... I want to help you but it's draining me. You've set on me but you are not the sun, and you will not listen. I wish I had fallen asleep in your arms, but who am I to ask you of anything? I'm following you with eyes wide open, trying to hold you up before you fall apart. Preventative measures. You say it comes and goes, but for me the feeling of loneliness stays. It's so hot and heavy, thick air caught in my throat, the solitude almost makes me choke. Everything seems frozen, time has stopped yet my eyes still gloss over. I am alone, even broken out of contact with time. This unending feeling and all I want is someone to share it with. What does it mean to be alone, together? It's you that I wish to fall asleep to.

She lay in an over abundance of blankets, a tiny, warm center of her universe, the nucleus of her thoughts and dreams, this was what she had burrowed herself into. Rich purples and pinks, soft comforters and scattered pillows, she sunk so deeply into the bed she almost disappeared. But he did not disappear, no. He giggled in the back of her head and stayed imprinted on her heart. He was the peanut butter she kept tonguing, stuck at the roof of her mouth. He was the feeling that reached all the way to the tips of her body, the tingling she got in her elbows. He was the way the waves can never leave the sand, he pulled her strings the way the moon makes music with the sea. He had a specific smile and a way with words, the image of him with his glasses on would cause her head to wander off in a daze. He was the constant reason for her biting her bottom lip and clenching her muscles. All he has to do is ask and she will fling herself into his arms.
There was one night she forced her banner into the relentless earth and took a stand. She said "no... another time," pretending it was due to self respect, she hid the fact that she really just felt ugly and worthless. In that moment she knew what she was worth and it wasn't his time. To him, she was nothing more than a body to caress and a soul to entice. His gentle kisses were laced with something sickly, and the words that he whispered were always too sweet, syruped. She wanted to be worth more so she turned him down. Maybe if she did, maybe if she took control and made it clear she didn't want the moments they stole from the moon to be meaningless, maybe then he'd want her as more than just a body. Maybe then he'd want her as she wanted him. So that one night, she decided to postpone even the littlest kiss. (God, she missed the way he'd smirk when they pulled apart to take a breath and stare off into each others' eyes. He always knew what she was thinking, often before she even did.)

She never stopped regretting saying no to the boy she may have...

Something I rarely ever say...

I think I deserve better. Hell, I know I deserve better. I'm sick of everyone treating me like shit. Or not even, people don't necessarily treat me badly, they're not outwardly mean to me. But I can genuinely say that no one really respects me or is very considerate about my feelings. And you know what, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of my roommate turning on the light when I'm already in bed, and then climbing into bed herself, so I have to climb out and turn it off. I'm sick of the people who go to get a meal with me, then eat before my omelette is ready and leave so I have to eat alone. I'm sick of the supposed friends that promise to always be there for me, but never make any kind of effort, never even bother to return my text message. I'm sick of feeling worthless because that's how I feel treated. Like I'm not worth the effort. But you know what, I am worth the effort! So I'm not going to make an effort to be in anyone's life if they're not going to make an effort to be in mine. And if you're nasty to me, if you boss me around, I'm just going to point it out. I won't necessarily even bitch to you, unless you make me. I'll just straight up tell you how it is. I'm taking control. Me. Because I'm sick of everyone else taking advantage of how nice I am and then fucking me over when I need a friend. I'm sick of relying on people for any of that shit. I deserve so much more. So much more. And I will prove the world that I'm better than this. I'm better than this.

I hope the next girl that you kiss has something terrible contagious on her lips.

This is my double entendre. A way of saying I both love and hate you, my head is hot and clouded, a lone ship caught in your reckless tempest (or am I the eye of the storm?). I am the way you slowly shut your eyes right before you fall asleep. I like the stories that slither out of your lips, escaping your grip and enticing me, an albatross hung swift around my neck. Do you ever think that there could be something left? (between) (us). Fuck this and you. This is my way of saying that you're the worst thing that ever happened to me, the plague that struck me heart and brought me to my knees. I want to be the next girl to kiss you, for I have something terribly contagious on my lips. It was once the way I said your name, but it has since changed to a series of tethered necks trying to fight back screams about you. Oh the lashes and the ways I'd hurt you, if only I knew how. I want to be the next girl that you kiss, for I want you to like me, somehow.

I love the way you breathe (with me)

I want an excuse to talk to you. I just really want to get to know you. In a way that I haven't ever really felt before. There's something about you that I'm drawn to. You seem very stable. Maybe that's it. I feel safe around you. And I want to spend as much time with you as possible. Am I being crazy? I want nothing more than to fall asleep next to you, again, in your arms, again, feel your lips, again. God, I loved the way you kissed me. There was something so delicate about it. It made me feel special. I love the way you breathe (with me).

Therein lay the fault of which I could not bring myself to say. My heart, it thumped like the rhythm of tears I left at bay. There you stood, just moments before the ground overtook the body I so badly longed to see. Swallowed by what was left of your words, the ones my lips pursed to hold back, I picked it up and flung it into the sea. A tiny flint, calloused and hard, with little bits that caught the light, like the high shining building I once met you on, those years ago. And with the wave of my arm, the picture of drowning, you sank beneath the muddied waves, an intoxicating tempest of inky indigo. Arms in the air, the thin line between waving and drowning, I estimated the seconds until impact, within moments my feet found themselves far above my head. My body stretched out, an acrobat lurching through the waves, greenish-blue skin, one might declare me dead. Hands relaxed and fingers elongated, any pebbles once held, now just tiny hearts sinking in a daze. I let my rock fall long before it left my fingers, for you were nothing but phase. 

Drowning, not waving.

(But I wanted you to think I was) leave you with a solid memory (of me). Waving, smiling, ecstatic. When really I'm (ataxic) drowning in my own fears and swallowed voice, my lack of ability to tell you (this is how I really feel). All I will ever be (to you) is waving. (No no no.) Drowning.

I let myself fall for a boy, and now I don't know what to do. Twice I fell asleep in his arms, two nights we snuggled together, two mornings I woke up to his blue eyes. His constant giggle and the fact that he kissed me everywhere. On the shoulders, on my forehead, on my lips and hips and cheeks. Now I just feel tired. Maybe I haven't slept well since I've slept alone. Some men die under the mountain just looking for gold, some die looking for a hand to hold. Is that what I'm looking for? I'm constantly distracted. Yes, I'm still sick and it's hard to focus when it hurts to breathe/swallow/cough/exist, but I'm distracted by something else too. A feeling in my gut. The causation of my corruption of goosebumps covering my skin. I close my eyes and feel cold and lonely and I can't help but want his presence, agin. Clearly, I am hopeless in all the wrong ways. All the ways you don't want to be if you don't want to get hurt. Maybe I need to build myself back up. Go back to the ignorance of mindless sex. The perfect prescription for my unwanted attachment to the boy I fell for. The way I fell for you. And to think of the words I wrote of you. Almost praising, somewhat cautious but mostly too busy being caught up in you. I like the way you breathe (with me). With me. The way you breathe with me. It was as though our breaths were tangled together as one, cold feet in between warm feet. Again, I am covered in goosebumps. And where are you?
And where are you?

God, I am so in your head, take me, take me, back to your bed. High and honey and sick again but figuring shit out. I probably will transfer, from the look of things. But for now I'm just fucking shit up and hoping for the best. Underneath the covers. I want someone to wear me out in all the best ways. Someone. Me. I want my long fingers grasping the air along with your voice. Can you feel me now? Feel me up and down. Feel the same as me. We are not alone. You will never be alone. I'm in your head.

Today I realized something... I never really write about my parents' divorce. I think it's a wall, it's clearly a Brick wall that I keep up. What happens when it comes down? There's some quote I've seen float around about how the more you see of someone, the more vulnerable they are, in all the little moments that no one else sees or notices, the more you love them. Would opening up be the catalyst I need? Some form of creative catharsis?
I read this short story, "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities" by Delmore Schwartz... In it the narrator goes to a silent film and ends up watching his parents' courting each other. He knows what a terrible thing their marriage will be and that they will produce monsters and yells at the film and tries to change the past, tries to prevent the relationship to happen, even if it means that he is never born...

I dunno what I'm saying. Maybe one day I'll figure it out and be able to actually articulate what I'm trying to say..

Gossamer (edited sestina)

I edited my sestina and even gave it a title, "Gossamer". Feel free to comment with any thoughts on the changes and such...

“Gossamer”

A sudden, loss of her frozen, fractured breath A

glistening, as he hands her a rose-gold locket B

underneath the autumn's cool, crisp moon. C

She grows a spine D

and kisses his cheek, somehow managing not to choke E

on the excuse she makes up. F

She stands tall, perfectly powdered with make-up, F

her milky dress rippling behind her as she slaves away to keep her breath, A

saying those two simple words by swallowing the choke. E

And the deed is done, they've written it in the stars, locked it. B

Palms out and arms open, "there's no more need for a spine!" D

she cries, as she tosses it away, the only witness being the moon. C

A whisper from the moon C

as she makes up F

her spine D

he breathes a rigid breath A

rips the locket B

right off her throat, almost causing her to choke. E

Hands wrapped around her throat, he squeezes hard with intent to choke. E

In the light of the wolf's yellow moon C

he ties her up and hopes to lock it B

away for it always runs too soon. He makes up F

an excuse to excuse his heavy breath A

but instead only rips holes in her wispy spine D

She stands up straight, straight up and grows a spine. D

Her spine that shines and makes him choke E

on the way he taught himself to keep his breath. A

It doesn't work for he knows that the moon C

is on her side to help her make up F

the life she's losing as he tries to lock it. B

The judge said she had to give back the locket. B

She wanted to keep it, something in her spine D

told her that it was better than making up her face with make-up. F

Frigid. The judge's words made her choke E

and watching her as the judge spoke, the moon C

tried to give her back some breath. A

But the breath was tied to the locket. AB

And the moon couldn't stop the cobwebs from littering her spine. CD

He'd choke her till her eyes were dry of make-up. EF