It's the day of reflection and change. The day where people all around the world commit to improving their lives in one way or another. Some might be committing to gym memberships, diets, or future goals. I know one boy that will be committing to getting over me. I for one am going to stop dwelling on my past mistakes. But I am not going to aim to "get over" the one person that I loved, and sit love no matter what. There were so many great moments that made me who I am today that I can't possible just get over them and pass them off as simple moments. The past has its beauty and its pain, that's why I can't concentrate on it anymore. There's so much beauty and pain in the future that will require my attention. If things end up working themselves out, they will work themselves out in the future.
I resolve to keep living in my head and stop worrying about what will or won't happen; to just let time work things out.
encountered a television show that has so entirely changed my perspective on the world as much as Six Feet Under has. I just finished watching the series finale and I am actually shaking. The show is scary and beautiful; how could it not be? The main themes are death and the beauty found in embracing mortality. I especially love the finale episode because it answers all possible questions about the fate of the characters, but you still feel like there's so much more that you could see if you desired. And I think that's the greatest part of the show, the characters feel so real because their lives are both seconds and lifetimes all at once. During the whole five seasons, the characters only age five years, and yet I'm left feeling like I knew them from life until death. The show takes the cliche saying of "live everyday as if it is your last" and makes you see beyond the desire to live as hard as possible in as short as possible. It makes you embrace the moments you have, the opportunities you have, and tells you that "yes, time does somewhat make you feel better." The central thing that I took out of it was that as time passes, you realize that all the horrible things that happen in a person's lifetime only hold as much weight as you allow them to. Truly the best and most engaging television show. The creator and director is the same guy who made True Blood into an HBO series, Alan Ball.
My mom put it a great way: it's either that one guy that you will always love or it's nobody. And right now, it's nobody because if I started looking for someone, I'd try desperately to find someone like him. (I don't want anyone else !) And even if that was possible and I found someone like him, I'd just be sad because he would just be a replacement. I'm feeling like I did when I first started this blog. Trying to find things to occupy my time and wishing I had a relationship to worry about instead of worrying if I have a caffeine addiction.
I am forever behind my invincible shield -behind hardened steel and twisted metal- fabricated to hide the portrait of a little girl. Medal designed to protect the child from the harmful effects of the great ball of fire we all call the sun. The once tender expression on the child’s face crafted into a horrifying battle mask of cooled fire.
Under this mask, I found refuge before, now I’m trapped in a room without a door – a cave without a light – a forest without a fire. A prisoner of my future self.
I have abandoned who I was before, when I promised that I would not hide any more but days passed, the sun rose and fell and the steel began to enclose my soft inner shell.
One day I will break free from this metal tree, I will tear through the bark of razors, I will rip the branches of knives, and I will pull the mask from my skin. I am free, I will shout. I will throw this ugly mask out. The warmth of the air will shock me and I will yearn to replace the cool comfort of the steel back to my face. But before I do, as I raise the mask, I will not prevent myself from seeing the reflection of the immobile little girl in the battle mask of cooled fire as she mocks me softly, whispering to my painted lips: liar, liar, liar.
Huddling deep in a closet, between moth eaten dresses, I hide from my captors with an ear pressed up against the wall like a criminal breaking into a bank vault, but instead of listening for the clicks to indicate a correct code, I’m listening for the of sound of footsteps. I would like to stretch my legs, but any movement could cause a noise that might alert the guards to my position.
The closet is unnerving; I keep terrorizing myself with images of monsters sneaking up behind me, just to shrink back into the shadows as I turn around. I would like to breathe deeply, to inhale the exotic scent of perfume and dust covering forgotten disguises, but that too could make a sound to alert the guards. My shoulders and muscles are so tight and tense that any foreign motion what so ever, holds the power to plunge me into cardiac arrest. I’m painfully aware of my own existence.
I would like to leave, but I have to teach them that when they wish to punish me, they will have to come and find me first. Through all this I cannot deny the need inside me, the need for my mother to place her arms around me and tell me that the monsters are only in my mind, a creation of my vivid imagination. But, now I suppose she might be much more willing to place her hands around my neck, so I focus all my strength on escaping this prison camp.
I am invincible. I lay in the night street listening for the sound of a car, waiting to hear the rumble of tires on the dirt road, turning up stones and dust. The driver is blaring music, Neil Young perhaps, singing along and reliving memories. My heart is beating in my chest, beating so hard as if threatening to explode; a time bomb with no one around to disarm it. I cannot stay here too long. I imagine what would happen if that car came flying down the road. I do not have time to react and hopefully it will be over quick. I wouldn’t mind dying as Neil Young songs blare from a few feet away.
It’s a cold summer night, one that smells like open earth and new life. My nostrils are still burning and my eyes are teary from the campfire, but now I’m looking at the stars. I do not care that I have sand in my hair or that my sweater is dirty. I imagine my family sitting around a campfire, talking over each other and laughing, they are so warm wrapped in their sleeping bags that they have to move back from the fire. I’m freezing in the dampness and I’m wrong, because they are quietly looking at the stars too, each one off in there own perfect world. I’m free, I’m alive, I’m defiant, I’m naive and I’m unaware of the danger or my own stupidity. I turn my head in the dust and smile at the boy beside me. I am in love and time is ticking away.
I awake with a broken body. The last time that I was conscious I was laughing. Pushing myself up on my forearms, I give up trying to find sleep and in one moment, one I would regret, I open my eyes. The sun should have stung my eyes, eyes that should have been bloodshot. It was no nightmare. After several minutes of realizing this, I cannot get rid of the hollow feeling in my body. There was no mistaking the needle marks in my arm and hand. They had told me that I would be fine. Did they lie to me? No. Not really. I’m alive. I can hear the blood throbbing in my head, it blocks out all thought. I raise my bruised chest, bite down in a futile attempt to stop the pain and wait for my memory to return.
I must have fallen asleep again, only to wake up in the same condition with a sore neck. I start to see into my clouded memory of the night before but cannot comprehend the immensity of the gap where there is nothing. Nothing. Blank. Empty. I remember up to the point of the drinking, but past that… I do not want to remember that part. I knew that I had lost all control and at the time I was not thinking about the consequences.
I swallow some saliva and I am not entirely surprised when the taste of stale vodka and vomit greet my already churning stomach. I groan obscenities through dry, chapped lips, which I direct at my stupidity. I want my mother but do not want to face her. I knew there would be pain on the face of my loved ones. That fact hurts more than the bruises that cover my body.
It’s New Years Eve and I’m sitting with my father. We both escape the laughter and the happiness of the party to hide out in the dark living room. There is silence between us because we are two of the same. We are sick of making idle conversation, sick of faking smiles for people we meet, because introductions will be forgotten and faces will fade with time. It’s times like these where I get to see my real father. The one that I have never been told about, the one that I can only see on select occasions when he lets his guard down and he is so raw that I am speechless and I can only look on with wonder, afraid that any sound could destroy his tender core and he will forever be his steel shell. He turns on the television, surfs around and finds Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold” concert.
The party noise disappears and I turn to my father. He’s gone and in place of where he was a moment ago is the portrait of a boy. He’s invincible, he’s free, he’s alive, he’s defiant and he’s naive. I sit through the whole thing, but I feel like a criminal who has stolen a glance at someone’s soul. Then it’s all over. My father is back and I’m heartbroken. He’s beaten down, he’s been captured, he’s obedient and he’s rational. Deep down I know that I am doomed to turn out the same way because we are two of the same.
Today I find myself sitting alone. I could go over to some people and strike up a conversation or make some new friends, but someone I’m oddly familiar with is holding me back. They are holding me back from the person that I want to become. What have I done to make this person that I am? What have they done to influence me? I’m sinking into my comfortable skeleton, reaching out for help, but too stubborn or lazy to speak up. Until I can go over to them, I will sink. But, when I do go over, I just might get knocked down. I need that force to break me. I need to be broken so I’ll stop sinking.
Back in the closet, I’m thinking: This is a sure way to drive them crazy.As I finish this train of thought with a know-it-all smirk, a dress falls on my head. The shock sends me screaming and flailing into the hall to crash right into the knees of one of the guards.
I cannot remember what their wrath was, but I do remember thinking, I promise that I will never grow up to be an angry, boring adult; an adult who works all day and becomes a shell of their former self. This was my last thought before the rest of my life began.
I've had 1,074 visitors to my blog this week... which is more than I've had since I started this blog in 2008. I'm not sure what people find interesting about my teenage angst, maybe they find it funny or comforting to know that someone is as messed up as they are. Anyways: here's a funny video that I love!
and I told her why I've been so miserable lately (crying randomly, sulking in my room for days, wearing my ray-bans all the time to hide my swollen eyes). I said that I'm terrified that I made a big mistake; that I ended a relationship that was really special and that I don't deserve to be loved by anyone. I don't want to think about if I did the right thing or not, but I can't help but feel like I cut off my own leg and now I'm struggling to walk. It's a cheesy simile, I know. It's the only way I can describe it. I told myself that it was the right thing to do over and over again. But when I think of the type of person I want to spend my life with, I think of him. I screwed up big time and perhaps I'll never be as happy as I once was. When I broke up with him, I could never pin point the exact reason why. I now know that it was simply the geographic distance between us. It led to a loss of trust that I couldn't handle. After a long day of school, he wanted me to talk to him, which was not too much to ask. But he was in a bad place and wanted my support. However, I can barely support myself, and I just couldn't take it. We would fight about little things because we were drifting so far apart. Now that we're apart indefinitely ( because now I know his parents hated me all along), I only think of the great times we had: eating lunch at our high school, hugging his back while he was on the computer, watching American Beauty and eating cereal off his chest, checking ourselves out in the mirror, walking to future shop, standing outside in the cold waiting for the bus, riding the bus and drawing invisible hearts on each other, going to Said the Whale, staying in bed all day, crying on each other, him falling asleep on my chest, talking on skype for hours while he was away in the summer, drinking beer, eating spits and watching hockey, holding each other while watching Wall-e (I cried) and having him care when I cried.
I could honestly go on forever. I think I would be ok if I knew that he remembered all these things and they didn't cause him pain. But, I know that he doesn't anymore, because they hurt him too much and so, all the good times we had are left to me to remember. And it's not a good memory if only you remember it and the other person sees it as a lie, regretting every moment, and for a good reason. I'm a heart breaker: first his, then my own.
I'm feeling pretty ordinary. It was worth every moment. Damn right. I can't wait to get on with my life. I want things to happen, I want to move on or just bury myself in my bed and never leave.
I hope I'm not the only one out there that enjoys a solo (or with friends), all-out, no hold backs, dance party. I couldn't possibly be the only one that is controlled by a catchy song with a bouncing beat, instantly bringing a smile to my face and a hop to my step. So, if I'm right, then I think anyone in the need of a pick-me-up has to listen to these next 5 songs I'm going to post in the form of youtube videos. Pump up your volume, put on a crazy get up and rock out with your cock out. And don't forget to sing your head off! (Knowing the actual lyrics is not important)
I signed up for a dating website for jokes. I've done it in the past just to see what kinds of people are on... so far 3 dude have messaged me. They are all above 25 with man boobs... gross. I checked out the girls... all of them are either chunky or scary as fuck. I'm going to stay away from the internet for awhile...
I listen to this music if I'm having trouble falling asleep. I usually lay in the corpse pose and I can feel my entire body going numb. Sometimes when I feel myself getting angry, sad, worried or stressed in anyway, I just turn this music on, close my eyes and breathe deeply, letting my heart beat slow. Soon there are no worries in my mind and I'm free from whatever event or feeling that threatened me.
I've been getting a lot of traffic lately! :) I like. Anyways, today was pretty awesome. I went to my brother's hockey tourney today. They lost, but I did see Doug Gilmour. He's the head coach of the Kingston Frontenacs! They are my new OHL team. By the way, I love my parents they are the SHIT! My sister is pretty cool too. She bought me a bucket of alcohol for Christmas... oh man she knows what them university kids like O.o I'm downloading Jimmy Eat World right now. I heard them on the radio and I remembered how much I loved them. All in all, I'm feeling pretty good. I had a few moments of weakness these past few days. I emailed my ex :S probably not a good idea in the long run, but he hasn't emailed me back which is fine. I love having the last word. I was very nice in my email so, I can now live with myself knowing that he at least knows how I feel.
I've been reading the novels by George R.R. Martin. They're going to be made into an HBO series. I ALWAYS love HBO series, so I'm excited. Plus the books are nerdy and epic.
Well, I'm going to get back to my reading... I'm so addicted. I forgot how good reading is for escaping reality.
