I believe there is love to gorgeous and powerful for this world, that it will just never survive. I seek to have my heart broken by this kind of love.
Why do I always feel like I need a boyfriend. Maybe it’s because society sometimes makes women feel that they are incapable to stand on their own. Maybe it’s because I feel misunderstood and I just want someone who totally understands me. Someone who tells me that I am beautiful not because they think that I want to hear it, but because they truly believe it.
I used to have an intense fear of cats. That was, until my friend Maggie got her adorable cat! I always take care of it when she goes away. Today when I went to her house to feed Millman (the cat) I found a note on her kitchen table that said “hi! I accidentally let Millman out today! Left the back door open I case he comes back – ‘illegible signature'”. Later as I watering her flowers I saw the cat in the drive way I picked him up and brought him to the porch. He’s pretty heavy so I had to put him down for a moment. As I went to pick him up once again, he struck my neck with his claws. After I stood up and got my wits about me, I noticed he was lying in the sunshine on the porch. Smug basterd. I then resumed to clean my fresh wound while I reaffirmed my fear (and, or, hatred) of cats. So now I have a 3 inch long scratch on my neck. Looks like I’ll be wearing my hair down this week….
I am choreographing a dance about dying for an arts program. The problem is I don’t know wether to make it sad or angry or peaceful or scared. I’ve never died so I don’t really know how it feels. If you have any advice on the subject please comment below.
I told him. I told him how I felt. Over text, I know very 7th grade. He was nice, he was so nice. He was eloquent and sensitive. He wants us to be friends. He wants me to have a great summer. He was so nice. That’s all I can think about how nice he was. It was almost shocking how nice he was. I didn’t know people could be that nice when telling you something that you… just don’t want to hear. I watched the breakfast club it’s my go to for sadness (or happiness, or nervousness, or excitement, ect). Right now I want to write poetry on my type writer, but I can’t because I need more ribbon. I feel a little frazzled but I’m okay. I’m glad I told him. I’m okay. If I say it enough it might be true.
As I sat in a McDonalds parking lot at 11 pm with my best friend her boyfriend and 4 other people I didn’t know very well; I realized that I do have stories. Like running around the grocery store and annoying people with my friend Thomas. Or the time my brother and I left our house at 2 in the morning and drove around for hours trying to find some place open on the Sunday night (actually the Monday morning) before he left for college. Or walking around my town at midnight, and sitting in the middle of a deserted side road with Megan. So I guess I’m not as much of a loser as I thought I was. nice.
the other day I realized that in high school terms I can be referred to as a “loser“. Right now almost everyone I knew was at a beach getting drunk. That’s not what I was jealous of them. I didn’t want to drink, I just didn’t want to be alone. I was talking to my brother a few days ago and I said “Wasn’t it weird the other night when I came home late and you were sitting on the couch?” “Yeah” he said “You know you should go out more often, you know, you can’t just sit and hang out at home”. This was when I realized I was a “loser“. I sit on my couch after work every day and watch “Americas next top model” marathons, or read, or blog, or listen to music. I don’t feel much better tonight since all 7 of my friends were either pissed at me, sick, away, or busy. So now I am sitting in my room alone, blogging, and crying because my mother felt so bad for me she asked “hey, do you just want to the mall alone?” The mall, alone….
Today I looked at a lake that I drive by nearly every day. As I looked I saw a large group of ducks huddled together; and on the other side of the lake a single swan. It made me think, Maybe the ones that seem to have it all are very much alone.
I try very hard. It may not seem that way, but I do. Don’t we all? We all crave acceptance and appreciation from those we admire. Those people, as well, crave the same thing from the individuals that they admire. The chain goes on and on. When will we realize that we don’t need the love we have earned through trying; we need the love we deserve for who we are. People always say I can finally be myself around you. Who are we the rest of the time. We walk around with masks on, hoping that no one will see the vulnerable human underneath. That we are all really just people that want admiration and love. That we are all simple humans that want so desperately to love and be loved for our masks and what we try so hard to become. I am one of them, You are one of them, Your grandfather is one of them, your neighbor is one of them, even Beyoncé is one of them. We all hide behind our fragile masks, thin as paper, hoping that nobody will see through.
“It’s not that I don’t like myself. It’s that I don’t like who I’m on the road to becoming.”