winter quarter lectures haven’t even started yet
and Shasta & I are already on tumblr
winter quarter lectures haven’t even started yet
and Shasta & I are already on tumblr
|me three days ago:||I'm gonna stay off tumblr this quarter|
|me two days ago:||I'm gonna stay off tumblr this quarter|
|me yesterday:||I'm gonna stay off tumblr this quarter|
|me this morning:||just fucking kidding|
So, a friend of mine asked me to write about what it’s like to fall asleep. But he wanted it to be free verse and as romanticized as possible; I usually hate using colorful language, and I feel like it’s beyond random. But, if you’d like to read, I would love feedback.
As I lay here, in bed,
Awaiting the unimagined dreams of a familiar slumber,
My thoughts meander
And my mind slips into euphoria:
A sort-of dreamscape existence
Filled with the sensation of clouds
And the smell of fresh raindrops.
Mistake not my location for an absence of consciousness,
Rather a hyper-awareness of being
Mixed with the kaleidoscope of my memory
And the sweet taste of bittersweet nostalgia,
Like that of honey or whipped cream
Or the taste of someone you’ve never forgotten.
Imagine with me, now, with our eyes closed in the dark
And let your imagination run free
Through the fields of our memories,
As we skip through the grass of our love
And pick the flowers of our brief time together.
Like the hands of the clock
On the face of the watch
Placed on a strap
Attached to your wrist,
Freezes for a moment as we slip into yesterday.
Something more comfortable
Like the days we spent together,
Our time here is short
So let us savor the moment and breathe it all in:
Inhale the aroma,
The scent of our days
Filled with our mischief
And lost in your eyes;
Exhale the poison,
Everything lost in the fire,
The infernos of our misguided angst and doubt
That did eventually set the field of our passion
Ablaze in the night,
Merely ash by the morning.
But it is far from dawn now
So we shan’t worry or stray;
Instead, lay here with me
In the midst of our madness,
A simple stroll through the meadows
Of everything we shared.
Errands and duties we embarked on
Changed immediately into undeniable quests
Filled with ghouls, ghosts, and goblins,
A demonic troll with a bridge and a gate,
And a lock with a key that only we could open together;
Mythic or not,
No matter the occasion
If we departed together
We regretted nothing.
A walk through the sun,
It’s surface ablaze with the heated eyes
And whispers and stares
And glares and smirks
And mocking and rumors
Of those around us,
Jealous, simply, because of what we were
That they were not
And what we had
That they possessed no knowledge of.
A freedom we owned,
Co-founders, patent pending,
That they wished they could believe in
Like the old folklore from Ireland:
Leprechauns and rainbows
With a pot of gold at the end;
Neither of those did we need,
Finding all the magic necessary
Within the company of each other.
Stay with me still, as we travel back further,
Venturing beyond the surface
And diving deep
Into the pools of our mystery
The depths no one could fathom
Sharing oxygen together to remain at such places.
Look out beyond us,
With the handwritten scribbles
And badly drawn sketches on coffee shop napkins,
Past the balloons and the cake
And the signs on the window,
Through the field and the fountains,
Beyond the sand and the shoreline:
See where we are now
As a full-screen portrait.
Landscape it, fully,
In high-definition color as the myriads of pallets
And brushstrokes collide.
Breathe it in slowly
Savoring slowly each molecule,
As we open our eyes to the wreckage we left here:
A sunken ship on the shoreline,
Brought in with the tide;
Three chests full of treasure, in between the mermaids
And the talking crustaceans;
That leprechaun dancing with your fairy-godmother,
Over there, in front of the dragon and the phoenix;
the Pegasus and the serpent,
Playing tag with the satyr;
And all of the other unreal possibilities
That we left in our wake.
Our history will be studied,
If not by us then
By those members of the generations to come
Who search for the method in
The madness of love,
On a quest for the answers
And the how-to guide
Of writing an unprecedented love story
Unlike any other before or after,
In the absolute chaos and
Pandemonium of reality.
They search for a romance
Even close to ours,
Hoping and praying to study it
Like a science;
A science, in fact,
Is exactly what we shall bequeath it.
For like that of Avogadro and Planck
And Curie and Kelvin,
Our relationship and all other
Stories we wrote
Were based on a simple science of living
And loving and being
A friendship and bond
Founded on the same thing that
Scientists devote their lives to explain.
A simple utterance
That all wish to define,
But we defined completely
With mere interaction with each other;
Something we possessed naturally
That most claim, though artificial,
A casual bond
That we may still have
Lying in our minds,
Burning free through the depths of our dreamscapes:
When the time arrives & you feel as if the world is crushing you, remember me. & then smile because I think you’re absolutely beautiful.
could you not be so attractive, please
it’s so fucking distracting
I am not afraid of the demons and ghouls, the spirits and frights
Who walk through the streets and only come out at night;
Who hide in the closet or live under my bed,
But I’m terrified of the ones who run free in my head.
So, in my post about Glee earlier, I mentioned that I got a little teary-eyed when Puck and Beiste sang Mean in tonight’s episode. And I wouldn’t normally post something this personal on tumblr, but I’m actually mainly doing this because my sister (my actual, biological, blood relative) reads my tumblr for God knows what reason. And I wanted to tell her this, but I didn’t want to text it to her because them she’d have to awkwardly figure out what she’s supposed to say in response. And there really isn’t anything that needs to be said; which should explain why I don’t have this conversation with her in person. Or with anyone in person, to be honest. If you read this, which I don’t know why you would, you can bring it up if you absolutely have to. Or if you want to say something about it; just don’t think I’m looking for anything from posting this. I require no validation, no consolation, no hug or pat on the back. I’m really only writing / posting this so my sister understands a little bit of why I am the way I am. Well, so anyone who wants to can understand the way I am. But really it’s mainly just for my sister.
Now that that awkward introduction is out of the way, let’s get to the story behind everything.
As most people know, I’m very open and incredibly honest about my past and all the little details about my personal life. In fact, I’m still almost an open book when it comes to my life. There’s just not a lot of interesting things that happen, so there isn’t much to tell. The only things I keep to myself are the things that no one needs to know. So I hold them in.
One of the things I’m most open about is the fact that I was depressed for almost two years after I started high school. I could go on and on about that, but I could just summarize it and save a lot of people a story they’ve already heard.
If you haven’t, ask me. I’ll tell you.
My junior year, I wasn’t depressed. I found out that the girl I liked for two years liked me, and that was all peachy. I struggled with a lot of anger issues because I couldn’t figure out why nothing was falling into place the way I wanted it to. And honestly, I was a gigantic pain to deal with, let alone live with. (I would’ve used the B-word, but I’m trying not to cuss in this post)
But eventually, things worked out and I was happier than I had ever been. I hid my relationship from my parents, which was stupid because now they know all about it and they really wouldn’t have cared because they would’ve just been happy for me. Stupid me, I should’ve known: my parents want me to be happy.
But that’s not what this is about; sorry, I got sidetracked.
Long story short, I screwed up the summer before my senior year.
And thus began the hardest year of my life.
Raise your hand if you just got confused.
Let me explain.
Yes, my freshman year was hell (literally, not cussing). My grades dropped. I had four friends. I didn’t fit in. I had an obnoxious dick of a foreign exchange student for a roommate. I felt like I was letting my parents down. I felt like I was letting myself down. I sank low enough to a point where I no longer wanted to be here (take that to the farthest extent, if you haven’t already heard this story).
But eventually, I got out of it. And honestly, it was easier than my senior year.
Because going into my freshman year, I knew I’d have no friends; going into my senior year, I had more friends than I could count. There were few people I didn’t consider a friend of mine. My freshman year, all of my problems were the ones I had with myself; I was the one insulting myself, hating on me, hating on how I was, hating on who I was.
My senior year was different. Because it was harder.
I lost almost all of my friends at one point or another that year. But during that year, I can only think of one person who was never mad at me during that school year. And I haven’t spoken to him in over four months.
Interjection: I’m only referring to the people I went to school with.
Interjection 2: There were some people who never got mad at me, but they weren’t really there when I needed someone, because they were busy or didn’t want to be. I hold nothing against anyone; what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? It’s true.
Anyways. So, I lost the girl. Tried to get her back, but kept screwing it up. So I hated myself for not being able to do anything right and for even letting her go in the first place.
And I hated myself for the decisions I made. I lost a lot of friends because they got tired of me ignoring their advice. But then I followed their advice (or at least I listened to it), and things didn’t work out. Except they weren’t there when I needed them afterwards.
So, there were some days when I was alone. Not just literally, but emotionally. There was a week where I slept less than a two hours cumulatively. I kept having these thoughts that there was a demon at the foot of my bed telling me to leave everyone alone.
Wow, just realized that I’ve never told anyone that. Well then.
But by the end of the first semester, I had no idea why I even liked who I was. Then I realized I didn’t. I listened and thought about every word that anyone had ever told me that year; whether it was said in anger or not, I remembered everything. And I repeated them to myself, reminding me of all my faults.
You have no control over your emotions.
You’re so arrogant.
There’s confidence, and then there’s arrogance, and then there’s you.
You never think before you do anything.
You’re so rude.
Why are you such a douche?
You’re always worried about yourself.
You think you’re hot ish (censored), but you’re not.
It all ran through my head. And I convinced myself that it was all true. And I hated myself.
To this day, there are things about myself I despise. Because I really just beat it so hard into myself that I believe it to my very core.
Basically, fast forward to the day before Winter break started. I had “gotten over” what happened in high school. But it still stung, because it legitimately screwed me up more than anyone realized. I had started college, but I didn’t have many friends. I was doing well in my major, but I would have rather cut my eyelids off than do it for the rest of my life. I had lost my best friend, but then finally reconciled with her. I had gotten myself into a new relationship (my first since the one junior year), but that one had ended, too. I had made a new friend (who I now refer to as my twin sister), but I had lost more friends than I thought I would after graduation.
Basically, I just started to think that I’d be stuck on this small-up big-down cycle forever. And honestly, maybe I will be. But I still remember driving home after my Computer Science final (which I finished first, in record time, and still got a 97%) and twirling the radio dial at a stoplight. Radio commercials are the devil to me.
And then I recognized Taylor Swift’s voice, which I love. I proudly own her first two CDs. But I hadn’t listened to Speak Now, because I had never gotten around to it.
And it was some whacked out country station, to be honest. I don’t think I would have ever found it if God hadn’t put it on the radio for me to stumble upon.
So I started to listen to it, and I fell in love with it.
Because honestly, I felt like I was destined to hear that song that day.
One day, I will be big. Whether I’m some hot-shot doctor that’s well known in the hospital I work at, or some famous talk show host like Ellen (my dream job), or writing and starring in a TV sitcom like Josh Radnor (my dream life), or even if I’m just well known in my family.
Because I will make everyone proud of me. I’ll prove everyone who has doubted me wrong; this song brings a smile to my face and emotional tears to my eyes.
I may not actually get watery, or cry, because I do my best to not ever. But honestly, this song is the song that finally convinced me that everything will be okay some day.
I pulled over on my way home, looked up the song on my phone, and sat on the roof of my car listening to it blasting through my speakers.
I have been bullied. I don’t consider what happened to me in high school bullying; that was just emotional rape, to be honest. I couldn’t handle anything that anyone threw my way that year, and I ended up doing some things that I should’ve have, messing up a lot of things I wish I still had, and just straight up ruining certain aspects of my life.
But I wasn’t bullied, technically. But I had low self-esteem going into high school.
I was picked on in elementary school because I was smart, and because my mom was a teacher at the same school.
In middle school, I had a girl tell me she liked me for the first time. But she later denied ever having feelings for me. To this day, I don’t think she’s ever admitted it. Well, that’s too bad, because I think I’m sweeter than a freaking teddy bear sometimes. Just letting that out there.
But I have a lot of baggage; even now, I’m still attaining more baggage.
Lost a friend, got them back, and might as well have lost them again because they never talk to me.
People come and go from my life as they please, and I never stop them. But I do my best not to let my baggage get to heavy. Because I’ve been to some of the darkest, lowest places in life, and I refuse to go there again.
And I refuse to let anyone get there.
I’m so against bullying it’s ridiculous.
Since college started, I have:
Shoved someone into a wall for tripping someone who walked with a limp
Cussed out someone for running into a young lady and then blaming her, when it was clearly his fault
Responded to someone tell a girl, “You look like a dumbass when you run.” with “You look like a bitch when you breathe.”*
*Doesn’t count as cussing; it’s a quote.
I refuse to let anyone intentionally lower someone’s self esteem if there’s anything I can do about it.
Because everyone is important, everyone matters, and everyone is beautiful to someone.
If my friends hate on themselves, I’ll refute it immediately because everyone I love is amazingly good looking. I’m just blessed like that.
But yeah, now I’m just rambling.
I doubt anyone has read this whole thing. But I really just wanted to let everyone know why the song “Mean” means this much to me.
Because some day, everything will be okay.
Maybe I won’t ever get married. Maybe I won’t ever be famous. Maybe I won’t graduate from medical school.
But I know for a fact that I will never be mean.
Which is why I’m writing this to my sister: because I’m mean to her.
And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m trying really hard. But I have a lot of baggage. And you’re really the only person who can help me carry it. I’m sorry I take it out on you, but I’m doing my best not to. You really are a great sister. Sorry I’m such a dick all the time; give it some time. Once I grow into myself, you and I will get along all the time.
One day, everything will be okay. One day, you and I will be the best of friends. It might be when I’m 30 or something, but it’ll happen one day.
“Someday I’ll be living in a big old city, / And I promise I won’t be so mean. / Someday I’ll be old enough so I won’t hurt you, / And I promise I won’t be so mean… / I’m trying not to be so mean.”
I do this thing a lot
Where I look at something & then wonder to myself, “What the hell are you doing?”
Because I’m not that guy
Or rather, I’m not “this guy”
The one I come across as
These days, at least
Because I used to be this person
That believed in everything
And believed in myself
And the things I could accomplish
Based on the person I am
But I realize now,
That I was wrong
Because I’m not longer I was
Instead I’m now who I am
All on a count of the fact
That the person I was
Was killed by the person I wanted to be
Oh the irony
Watch as it engulfs me
And leaves everything that I am
Represented in the sand
Kindly excuse this note. I wrote this in a very agitated state. Please excuse my colorful language and extreme harshness. I apologize in advance.
I titled this note the “phrase” that I did because it helps describe this post. I’ll do my best to keep it short. I titled it asdfghjkl for two reasons.
1. Because it describes the frustration / irritation I felt during the moments that this story took place.
2. I’ll be using asdfghjkl instead of cussing.
So I was sitting in my Wnglish class and we were supposed to be discussing the reading. But the two girls behind me (in my “group”) didn’t do the ready. They failed the quiz and they were mad at me already because I didn’t; I did the reading in the hours before class, so it was all fresh in my mind.
So, the topic of guys crying in front of their girlfriends came up, because I had expressed my agitation with the narrator of the story for crying in front of his girlfriend because he was begging her to stay, despite the fact that he didn’t really know who she was or what she was thinking.
He was basically using crying as a manipulation tactic to try and control her emotions. And I said that I don’t believe a boyfriend should cry in front of his girlfriend unless it’s over the death of a loved one or you got run over by a car or something.
And these asdfghjkl just really wanted to rip into me. So, they figured they’d “jokingly” stab at me, because they knew I wasn’t going to do anything about it.
Among their jabs and taunts, a certain few stood out.
“Well, I think it’s okay for guys to cry. It shows they have a sensitive side. You must not be very in tune with your emotions.”
I bit my tongue. Silence is golden, I told myself.
“You must never have had a successful relationship; it’s obviously because they didn’t think you showed enough emotion.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Guys cry because it’s an emotion; just because you don’t show emotion, don’t get mad at the guys who do.”
I held my ground; not letting anything get to me.
I figured I’d interject though; I told them that I have had two girlfriends, and I haven’t cried in front of either of them. Ever.
“Well, that’s because you didn’t trust them enough.”
I calmly stated, No, I did. Don’t assume you know anything about my relationships.
“Have you ever taken care of someone? Because that’s when you really start to trust them enough to cry in front of them.”
I was already starting to get a little abrasive; these asdfghjkl should’ve realized that they were playing in a room full of gas and they were about to light a match.
But, they’re both ridiculously stupid and oblivious to people.
So, they lit the match.
“Obviously, you’ve never been in love. Because if you were really in love, then you would’ve cried. Just wait, one day you’ll fall in love and that stone heart of yours will realize it’s okay to cry.”
Oh asdfghjkl no, you arrogant, condescending, conceited little asdfghjkl. I held my tongue for long enough, but you have crossed so many lines I don’t even know where to start.
One. My emotions. I am more in tune with my emotions than most guys are; not just guys my age, guys in general. And I’m not meaning to sound arrogant, it’s just that asdfghjkl true. And not only that, but God had blessed me with the great ability to express my emotions. Unlike you, I know the difference between thinking you feel something and actually feeling it. I’m more in tune with my emotions than your has-been-athletic-in-a-former-life asdfghjkl is. So pardon your condescension, you are excused.
Two. My relationships. You have no idea why either of them ended, so kindly keep your huge asdfghjkl nose out of it. If you started to evaluate yourself instead of pretending you know anything about me, then maybe you wouldn’t have to wonder why you’ve never had a relationship.
Three. “Guys cry because it’s an emotion.” Umm, are you asdfghjkl retarded? Crying is not an emotion. Sad is an emotion. Happy. Loving. Angry. Mad. Joyful. Cry is a verb, not an emotion. So kindly learn your parts of speech before you use another sentence in the English language. You’re giving Americans a bad name.
Four. I don’t show emotion? You obviously have never had a real conversation with me in your life. Oh, wait, no that’s right. You haven’t. So how the asdfghjkl would you have any idea of what I do or do not express, you asdfghjkl.
Five. I didn’t trust them enough? You must be stupid; I have never trusted someone so much in my entire life. You know how you think you and that guy who you’re “trying to work things out with” have all that “trust” with each other? Yeah, well that was the level of trust I had like two years before I started even talking to the girl I dated. So kindly shut up and think before you open your asdfghjkl mouth.
Six. Yes, I have taken care of someone. Not in the sense that they’ve needed me to take care of them, but I’ve been in a situation where I cared more for them than I did for myself. Have you? I doubt it.
Seven. “Obviously you’ve never been in love.” Obviously I’ve never been in love? Because I chose not to cry in front of her? Because I wanted her to think that I was strong, that I could handle myself emotionally? Because I thought that I should be the one that she could lean on and never have to worry about if I can handle it? I have never been in love because I didn’t cry in front of her? What kind of fallacy do you live by? You think that just because I didn’t cry, that she didn’t know the inner-workings of my emotions better than I did myself? You are sadly mistaken, you asdfghjkl. I have been in love. And she knew I loved her. And as far as I know, she has never seen me cry. And I don’t believe she should have to in order to know that I was in love with her.
And for the record, I don’t think that crying should be done by a guy in front of his girlfriend because I believe that crying can create a feeling of burden or bias unnecessarily. And I was referring to the douchebag of a character in the novel; I don’t believe in the manipulation of emotions. Whether it involves crying or not, I believe that if you aren’t straight up with someone, then you have no business speaking to them.