…and I am in need of change, I’m giving up on this world I’m living in ((The Devil’s Surrender — Tim William))
—
The worse it gets, the more I drink. The more I drink, the worse it gets. I’m in a vicious cycle in my own world. I plan to pass out in a few hours, I’m taking my time. I salute you, and I hope you’re never as stupid as me.
He is nice and funny and shy and I wanted to get to know him better before making a move. Then she met him, and she hooked up with him while I wasn’t looking. I don’t want to hate her because she didn’t know, but I want to hate her because she still did it and she acted like a slut; she always has to take things from me. Now I’ll never look at him the same, because now he’s been with her. And right now, she is with him and I’m alone at my computer. Even if it doesn’t last, I will not be second choice. I fucking won’t. Anything I may have had with him is gone.
Instead of talking to her about it, I’m taking it out on myself and a bottle of vodka. Wish me luck, I hope I win.
Filed under: Life as a Broad Title | Tags: college, family, friends, future, life, summer, time
…in silence, traveling like a broken boat heading for the sky, and i’m an island ((Last of Days — A Fine Frenzy))
—
Lots of things I’ve been thinking about lately.
1. My famous last words of the month (I pick one every month and when ever I have a moment where I need something to think of, that’s what I think of & I try to figure out all the things that they mean). This month’s:
“Death is nothing, nor life either, for that matter. To die, to sleep, to pass into nothingness, what does it matter? Everything is an illusion.”
–Mata Hari
I think I disagree. Things should matter, life and death and love have proof. Solid witnesses, and evidence of their existence. I don’t think they should be disregarded lightly.
2. I’m almost done with my junior year. The closer it gets to summer, the more I realize that I’m going to be a senior next year, and after that I’m leaving my home. It’s scary and exciting at the same time. As much as I want to get out, to live more freely, and to experience new things — this is still my home. This is where I’ve had my best and worst memories. This is where I grew up in suburbia on Capri-Sun. Pool parties. Bike rides. Popsicles. Birthdays. Lunch boxes. This is where I experienced so many firsts. First crush. First heartbreak. First hatred. First cut. First kiss. First alcohol. First car accident. There are so many things I want to hold on to and remember. I don’t want to let go of everything this city means to me, all the people I love here. But I know I’m going to have to take the next step, to grow up and experience new firsts in new places. I don’t think anyone ever runs out of ‘firsts’. That’s a comforting thought.
3. Sometimes I feel like my life is a black hole, everything gets pulled in and stuck and no one really knows where it leads or what it’s made of or anything.
4. I love stargazing with lollipops on top of parking garages and having deep conversation with a friend. I think it may be one of my favorite activities.
I like even numbers, I’ll stop there.
Filed under: Life as a Broad Title, Reviews | Tags: books, life, mind-blowing, review
…yeah, you want to have something that’s real ((Alive — Pete Yorn))
Just for the record, he is one of the most amazing musicians ever. None of his songs ever feel wrong or out of place. They just fit together like bread and strawberry jam.
—-
I had an AP English exam today. Four hours from hell basically. It’s over now, but I still have a lot to do. It’s been a pretty shitty two weeks. I read the book Looking For Alaska for psychology, and it was just as amazing as the first three times I read it. I’m in the middle of writing an essay on it, but one of the parts I had to discuss was if I enjoyed the book or not. Here’s what I had to say:
I enjoyed the reading because it’s simply a phenomenal novel. The characters are believable, and the experiences are accurate depictions. It doesn’t sugarcoat things, but at the same time doesn’t throw stereotypical teenagers in your face. The situations are realistic, and when I read it, I can immerse myself in it without being thrown off by something that sounds fake. While I feel like Alaska’s death is tragic, it also changed the characters. Her life made a difference, it made people think, and I think that’s one of the most important things you can do with your life – make a difference.
I hold true to what I said. I feel like the most anyone can ask for out of life is to have the chance to have lived and to make a difference. Alaska’s character is just so powerful and moving and beautiful. She has everything going wrong and yet she is so full of life. She knows how to live without looking back and how to turn people off with her brash attitude and defiance. The more Miles learns about her, the more he loves her because of her uniqueness. She just has this quality about her that I wish I had. It’s where she captivates and confuses people at the same time. Everything draws you in, but everything pushes you away. John Green did such an amazing job with creating her character. Alaska feels so real, and even her death is beautiful in a sense. The fact that she leaves behind such a legacy to Miles and Chip, and that she changes their lives forever is really moving.
I guess what it boils down to is that I want to make a difference. I want to be the one to change someone for the better without even meaning to. I want to be the center of love and passion and hate and despair. I want to mean something to someone.
…with summer girls, with summer hair ((Summer Hair = Forever Young)).
—
The ironic part of this song? It’s what I was listening to when I got in a car crash today. Fuck.
Picture this. I’m sixteen. I haven’t even had my licence for a year. My dad has no job. If the insurance company qualifies my car as totaled, they won’t pay. I repeat, I’m sixteen — my insurance is going to skyrocket.
I shouldn’t really talk about the accident itself, and frankly — I don’t really want to. I’m alright, but I can’t really say the same for Beckett. The car ironically named after the singer from the aforementioned song. Weird, eh?
I was really shaken up though, and as much as my parents are telling me not to worry about it, I am. Everyone says I’m the safest, most cautious driver and person they know. I hate that I got into an accident. The cost is not going to be pretty. I told my parents I’m going to get a job and work through the summer, because I’ll be damned if I don’t take responsibility for this. I know I’m only sixteen, but I’m smart enough to know that we’re having money problems in my house right now and this isn’t going to help one bit. Especially if I get sued.
Then I felt bad because my dad, after seeing me cry for the first time since I was probably six (emotion isn’t something we tend to show in my family), went and bought me some expensive Chinese food & I had already eaten. But I ate it anyways, and I feel like I’m about to explode becuase I always put others before myself. That pisses me off too, that I’m honestly a really decent teenager for the most part. My brother is a dumbass who has like a billion speeding tickets and used to race on the highway.
My mom says she’s just glad I’m okay, and I am too but I’m so worried about my car. I literally didn’t start freaking out and crying till I saw my car.
I have holed myself up in my room for years because I had no friends to take me places. Getting my car was the only way I ever had freedom. When I’m this upset, I’d go out and drive. I have a system I did around the neighborhoods that usually made things feel better. I seriously can not go back to the way I was without some way of getting fresh air like that. I’ll go back to freshman year, aka an incredibly terrible time in my life that I never want to relive.
So many thoughts have been going through my head, it’s hard to even keep them straight.
Filed under: Life as a Broad Title | Tags: family, holidays, life, love, mother's day
…so mothers, be good to your daughters too ((Daughters — John Mayer)).
———
So this is in lieu of Mother’s Day being just around the corner. This year I did what I did when I was six, I made a plate. Over spring break, a friend and I went to one of those places where you pick out pottery and you paint it and they put it in a kiln and BAM it’s shiny. Well we thought it’d be cute to do plates for Mother’s Day. Anyways, what I wanted to talk about was — drumroll — my mother.
Sometimes I sit back and I look at my mom and wonder why my dad married her. I know that’s harsh, but I’ll be saying nice things too so don’t get your panties in a twist. I know she was a swimmer when she was younger so she was attractive, and I know she liked to dance at punk clubs to music that I still listen to like The B-52s. But sometimes it feels like she has absolutely no personality. She’s just bland. Maybe she had a personality at one point, but I feel like she’s lost it in the mix of raising three kids (guess who’s the youngest in the family?). On occasion she’ll say a funny remark. Sometimes she makes awkward sexual innuendos in front of me. And boy, I’ve definitely seen her get mad. But there’s no life in her. She doesn’t like to read, cook, knit, do yoga, nothing. She has no hobbies. She cleans on occasion, she works from home, but I never really see her doing something she loves or something that makes her unique. My dad was pretty wild in his day, motorcycle in all. There’s one story where my dad asked my mom to go out biking. So my mom gets her five speed all ready to go. Then my dad pulls up on a motorcycle. Other stories are of wild concerts or the occasional party. But now, there’s nothing. It’s sad, and it’s scary.
Sometimes, I think about how much my mother has given up for me, my brother, and my sister. There’s no big adventure she really had planned for her life, but I feel like maybe if she didn’t have kids in her 20s, maybe there could have been. What would her life have been without us? I know all mothers are supposed to love their kids unconditionally, but at the same time that’s completely ridiculous. I know there’s been times where my mother has really been on the verge of wishing we weren’t here for one reason or another. I’m okay with that, too. She’s human like the rest of us. I just want her to be happy. As much hell she’s put me through, she’s still my mother and I feel like she’s lost the joy in life. I’m a hassle some days. As independent as I am from her, I know I can be a pain in the ass. Sometimes I want to apologize, but then I don’t. I’m not sure why.
Sometimes I think about how my life would be without my mother. We have a strange relationship, my whole family is very unemotional around each other — besides anger, there’s plenty of that in my house. I am a very emotional person, I will cry in front of my friends, but it takes a LOT for me to cry in front of my family. I don’t know if it’s embarrassment or shame or what. I just feel like I have to remain in control around them all the time. Other than serious injury, or the whole being a screaming infant thing, I think my mother has only seen me cry like twice. I share innocent things with her, like how my day at school went or what I’m doing with my friends. Nothing deep, nothing meaningful. I felt so terrible when I asked her to get me a therapist because I was at the point in my life where I just knew I needed help from an outside party. My mother begged me to talk to her, literally begged. And I fucking couldn’t, because I couldn’t stand the thought of her knowing that I’m not exactly the perfect daughter. That I’m fucked up, my insides are all messed around and twisted into knots. That I scream & cry & cut & sometimes feel like I’d be better off dead & hurt & hurt others sometimes & have fury like hell hath not known. I was so ashamed for her to see that side of me that I just couldn’t talk to her even though she so desperately wanted me to. I felt terrible for that, it literally tore me apart to know that fixing myself meant hurting her in the process. I hated myself for that for such a long time, and I think a little part of me still does.
My mother is simply hard to describe. Sometimes I think I hate her, but I know I really don’t. And I want her to know that. I may yell at her and find her the most annoying thing in the world sometimes. But I really do love her.
So this is for my mom, who will most likely never, ever read this. But I wanted to write this down for myself anyways, as a reminder on those days when it feels like we’ll never understand each other. Because when it comes down to it, we don’t need to understand each other all the time. Love is universal.
