This blog will remain stagnant indefinitely.
"If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life."
I was gonna go to sleep, but I think I’m liking the route this essay has taken. I think I’ll continue. I’ve slept too much anyway.
It is twelve minutes past one as I type these words, gorged on almonds covered in milk chocolate and feeling nauseated due to the constant crave to fill my boredom with sugary substance.
From 11 to 12, I lied in bed, tangled in the furry blue comforter that smelled like sleep and soap. I listened to songs about surfing, sun, and waves and nearly cried at the thought of the sun rising in six hours.
I heard her in the other room, and I stiffened because if she woke, I would hear her voice. I do not need to be told to sleep. I slept the day away, and if I had gone to sleep at that moment, I would have hoped to not wake. Maybe that’s why I’ve been sleeping so much. To get away. Else I will scream my lungs out in a fiery blaze of
"help me please shut the fuck up”.
Then, I thought of you as I had been doing moments before moments ago, day in and day out. I wondered if you had already fallen asleep. I wonder if you thought of me at all. I close my eyes and think of drowning in blue. When I open them, I realize I am fine with lying here alone. But I wouldn’t mind it either if you joined me.
I remember when my words flowed so effortlessly into neat orderly patterns like those bracelets I used to make in third grade, reminiscent of kaleidoscope hues. The din of my thoughts didn’t trip over format and fell into nice cubbyholes where gleaming adjectives, adverbs and alliteration fit ever so snugly.
It takes too much for me to write like I did. I can’t seem to find the right way to say anything about what makes the crashing noise inside of my head, the scraping underneath my chest, in the hollow of my bones.
What a farce. I am no bird.
I am a human being.
That alone keeps me up at night.
"It’s all about falling in love with yourself and sharing that love with someone who appreciates you, rather than looking for love to compensate for a self love deficit."
"Inner beauty, too, needs occasionally to be told it is beautiful."
"I want to get more comfortable being uncomfortable. I want to get more confident being uncertain. I don’t want to shrink back just because something isn’t easy. I want to push back, and make more room in the area between I can’t and I can."
"Our culture teaches us about shame—it dictates what is acceptable and what is not. We weren’t born craving perfect bodies. We weren’t born afraid to tell our stories. We weren’t born with a fear of getting too old to feel valuable. We weren’t born with a Pottery Barn catalog in one hand and heartbreaking debt in the other. Shame comes from outside of us—from the messages and expectations of our culture. What comes from the inside of us is a very human need to belong, to relate."
I Thought It Was Just Me: Women Reclaiming Power and Courage in a Culture of Shame by Brene Brown
"Stop comparing where you’re at with where everyone else is. It doesn’t move you farther ahead, improve your situation, or help you find peace. It just feeds your shame, fuels your feelings of inadequacy, and ultimately, it keeps you stuck. The reality is that there is no one correct path in life. Everyone has their own unique journey. A path that’s right for someone else won’t necessarily be a path that’s right for you. And that’s okay. Your journey isn’t right or wrong, or good or bad. It’s just different. Your life isn’t meant to look like anyone else’s because you aren’t like anyone else. You’re a person all your own with a unique set of goals, obstacles, dreams, and needs. So stop comparing, and start living. You may not have ended up where you intended to go. But trust, for once, that you have ended up where you needed to be. Trust that you are in the right place at the right time. Trust that your life is enough. Trust that you are enough."
I “wrote” a poem yesterday. Been a while.
I didn’t have a pen with me so I saved a draft on my phone.
"I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become."
"I do not pray for a lighter load, but for a stronger back."
"As I see it, you are living with something that you keep hidden deep inside. Something heavy. I felt it from the first time I met you. You have a strong gaze, as if you have made up your mind about something. To tell you the truth, I myself carry such things around inside. Heavy things. That is how I can see it in you."
Haruki Murakami (via hellanne)