Progression

beautiful, Beauty, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, school

My world has drastically changed in the last three weeks.

At 17, I have now moved out of my mom’s home and in with my 20 year old sister. I’m working 30 hours this week while also trying to maintain my grades in high school, but it seems manageable and even fun because I don’t have a stressful home life anymore.

Sure I still have my issues and some day are not great, but most of them are. Fuck, I woke up at 5:30am yesterday and didn’t go back into my house until 11:30pm but I was fine and happy even because there’s no turmoil or anger and I know that home is a safe place.

Also, I’m like sort of vegan now. There are some days that are entirely vegan and some where I’ll get regular milk in my coffee at starbucks, so I don’t openly call myself a vegan because I’m not – but I’m eating almost entirely plant based right now.

Also, I’m over Santana – which only took like a few months – but yeah I’ve moved on and there’s this pretty cool dude at work who I’m interested in.

I’m going to try to pace myself and not be too crazy – but uh, I think we could be good friends.

It feels really good to be on my own, outside of my parent’s homes. So far my grades are staying up and I’m getting to work, and everything is functional – I’m preparing to apply to universities which is totally scary. This time next year I might be living in San Francisco, going to SFSU, and studying to become a Technical Writer. What??

I’m not quite sure what the fuck is happening with life right now because everything is seemingly just working and that is new.

I’m gonna just accept it and relish that life is good.

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Bursting Apricot

beautiful, Beauty, Blame, Creative Writing, feminism, forgotten, fuck you, Future, Her, Humanist, Journal, New, Personal, Poetry, Relationships, school

I have many glass vases sitting on a shelf.
Some are blue, others yellow,
Your’s was the color of an apricot on a warm summer day.

With flakes of red bursting from the center
And warm orange undertones, calming the world.

It was the color of my heart. Before it fell off my shelf.

Now the colors have separated, amidst the shards of broken glass,
The glass and color intertwine, the way vines and lattice do.

A psychedelica puddle on the floor, irreparable.
Still beautiful, but in a more human way.

My Happiness

beautiful, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Small Things

Today as I was sipping coffee in bed,  I realized a simple concept that I knew before. The world just clicked into place, and I finally understood it.

You can feel happiness and sadness at the same time. Depression and hope. Emotions can be paired together, even if they contradict.

I can feel happy even though the world isn’t ideal right now, because I am completely infatuated with someone who doesn’t want a relationship or because I still have another year of high school to get through before I feel like I can actually start my life. But I am happy right now. I am totally in love. There might be undertones of loneliness, or depression, fear of rejection – but I can still be happy. And I am happy.

I have my cup of coffee, a new phone, a job, my grades are good right now, I have that feeling of pure bliss when you have feelings for someone, my room is clean, I’m in therapy, there are no outstanding issues in my life right now.

Can we just talk about the fact that I always put myself down for not being everything I want to be? I might have everything I want except two things, and then those two things control my life. Like not having a car or my own bedroom. I have so many other things worth relishing – it’s so greedy. I do not want to be greedy.

I want to start focusing on what I do have – imagine what life would be like without all the things I take for granted everyday. Like the fact that Riley lets me use her computer, or the shelves mom got me for Christmas, the phone I have, my cup of coffee right here and right now. The spotify account Riley lets me use, or the pajama pants Aunt Ne gave me that used to be Gpa’s. All of the wonderful books I own, that are mine – not my moms or riley’s. They are my books.

This is my life, and no one has the power to rob me of my happiness.

Moral Dilemma

beautiful, Beauty, Creative Writing, Future, Humanist, Journal, Nature, New, Personal, Poetry

It feels as though the world is lapping at me,
Eating away at my heels as I try to make my way.

Like a rock on at the edge of the ocean,
Never getting a break from the endless torture
That is the ocean’s softly beating wave.

Back is sore, feet bleeding, hands callused
I’ve held on this far, but I was never promised an end.

Not a moment goes by as I brace to the cliff
that letting go isn’t considered,
but if I do, the cliff will fall,
Cascading into the ocean.

Atop this cliff, a child sits, their fate is my decision.
I can hold on, turn into to stone
As the water relentlessly beats me with its salty hand
Or I can let go, and let the ocean guide us into the world
of eternal night.

Poetry Time

beautiful, Beauty, bisexual, feminism, Future, Her, Journal, Love, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Poetry, Relationships, Sexuality, Small Things, Smiling

There, across the room,
Short brown hair, she laughs like an angel.
Angsty jacket, tapping her foot elegantly,
Her curves, outlined by the white t-shirt she wears.

Perfection, softly smiling – stealing glances,
Hoping to not be caught.
Her voice is like honey, or maybe silk,
the way it graces my ears.

Her eyes are deeper, more fulfilling than
fucking outer space. Remind me of the stars,
everything they’ve seen.

I dream of holding her hand, feeling
her breath on my neck, lips against mine.
Look into my eyes. Look.

 

Life Update: New Feelings

beautiful, Beauty, bisexual, feminism, fuck you, Future, Her, Hope, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, Sexuality, Small Things, Smiling

It’s been awhile since I posted, mostly because my laptop stopped working. I’m beginning to realize that I post on here so I can look back at my life with a roughly complete set of documents on how I felt at a particular point in time.

It’s interesting, seeing how I’ve struggled in the past compared to how I struggle now. The recurring issues, what I was once passionate about – the things that got me angry or made me feel loved.

I currently have feelings for someone. It’s really bad. Kind of taking over my life. But that’s always how I can tell that it won’t become something – I’ve never dated someone I was infatuated with. It’s just never happened.

But jesus she’s beautiful. Distracting, even. I find myself forgetting what we’re doing in class because of the way she taps her foot or smiles. I’m worried she only sees me as a friend, though.

Last year, we entertained the idea of being something – which she couldn’t have forgot (could she??). We were talking for like a week before she told me she wasn’t over her ex. So I let it go and went on with my life and kept talking to Charley to pass the time. That worked all summer – but now I’m back at school and have two classes with the most beautiful person on campus, she is impossible for me to ignore.

I want to know everything about her, the details about her childhood, her greatest fear in life, I want to hang out on Saturdays in our pajamas while she plays video games and just hang out. I would be happy just to be in her presence. She’s talented, beautiful, funny, and just plain perfect. I have a feeling that my sister and close friends are tired of hearing me talk about her, and I understand because I’ve definitely been there with someone – when they just won’t shut the fuck up about a person that they’ve liked for ages but never pursued anything with.

It’s just annoying.

But the thing is, I am worried to pursue anything because we tried things out like four months ago and she let me down easy. The thing about not being over her ex is 50% chance a way of not hurting me while also getting me to go away or 50% the truth. SO, if by chance it is the first option, I don’t want to make a fool out of myself by declaring an undying love for her beauty and mind when she is totally not feeling it.

I’d rather keep my mouth shut and slowly die inside as I grow more and more fond of her. I’ve been rejected so many times, I probably couldn’t count. Actually, I could – I am just happy naive. But my point is that I don’t want to be rejected again. My heart couldn’t take it, not when I feel this strongly. I’d probably be bed ridden for a week and not be able to eat again.

She does talk to me, though. Which is something. She waved at me the first day of class, and talks to me before class too. I wonder if she can tell how flustered I get? Or if I blush.. I’ve been known to blush before.

My heart physically aches when I think about her. This is so shitty and also so fucking amazing.

Why do I feel this strongly when I like someone?

God. It feels like something is wrong with me because everyone else seems to just ease into relationships. They go so goddamn smoothly and no one is put in an awkward position of liking the other person more.

Why can’t I be so fucking smooth? Just enough for her to realize I’m not a total nut job.

Even though I sorta am

She said she liked my art today.. Probably just being nice, because what else would have been a polite response? I shouldn’t let it get to my head.

FUck. Why do I have to respond 2 minutes after I get a goddamn snapchat from her every time? She takes like 20 minutes, but I’m over here, Ms. Needy Asf, and responding lightning fast. No wonder she is acting unsure – I’m way too clingy. Fuck. I need to be more detached, don’t I? Show that I’m not gonna be a psycho bitch…

I hate when I write posts like this and I think about how the future me knows how this all pans out. Like, do I go psycho and smash her car windows while screaming and crying because we dated for a year and I found out she never loved me? Do I confess my feelings to be rejected and told she isn’t that into me, and we’re better off as two gay people who are just friends? Or maybe we move to Hawaii and live there until we’re 100 and raise chickens on a property overlooking the ocean and drink coffee early in the morning as we watch the sunrise? I kinda like that last option a lot. Perhaps I never say anything. I just let this perpetual mood swing go on until we graduate and go our separate ways in life. I hate that thought, of moving on with my life and just having her not be a part of my everyday life.. Shit, and I felt like a three day weekend was going to be rough.

I really have feelings for this girl, but I don’t know what the fuck to do right now.

Let’s Go

beautiful, Beauty, Creative Writing, Future, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Nature, New, Peace, Personal, Relationships

Everyday I am alive, the realization that I have no idea what I’m doing sets in a little bit more.

That my anxiety is a hormonal reaction, and that everyone sees the world very differently.

I’m discovering how I want to see the world, and the person I want to become.
Seeing what makes me genuinely happy, figuring out how to deal with difficult people/situations, and the ongoing struggle to react in ways that represent who I want to be.

I’m finding that I need someone to love. There is an overwhelming amount of love inside of me that I want to give, paired with my extensive barriers that my experiences have created. It’s near impossible to trust when I have given so much love to find that I was being used. Naïveté in it’s purest form, to love someone who has no intentions of loving you back.

I also have the need to travel, to go somewhere that no one speaks my language and I’m scoffed at for being american, and to taste food that was prepared farther away from my home than I have currently been. I want to ride a plane across the ocean, look out the window and be afraid. I want to skydive, ride in a hot air balloon, bungee jump, and watch the sunrise in India while a bustling city wakes up below me. I want to sip a latte in Paris as it rains, eat a orange in the south of France, kayak in Greece, I want to see and go everywhere.

I want to learn how to love running and to be someone the weak envy.

I want to eat avocado toast for breakfast with a cup of black coffee everyday at five-thirty in the morning before I have to go to work.

I want to save money, and have a life I am proud of living.

That is really what I want. To be proud of my life. Escape limiting beliefs and achieve everything my heart desires. I know I can. I will.

I Deserve To Love Myself

beautiful, Family, feminism, fuck you, home, Humanist, Journal, Personal

When someone has a kid, it’s understandable that they would want them to hold the same beliefs and ideals as themselves.

Though, after I had spoken up for myself, my mom turned to me and said “I would never have been allowed to talk to my parents that way” when I had just expressed that I disagreed.

I have my own opinions, and I won’t apologize for thinking for myself. I might not know everything, but neither do you. There’s a good chance that we are both wrong in our own right, though I would rather die knowing I stood up for my own thoughts rather than following you blindly.

She has threatened to take away my phone because she believes I have too much contact with the world around me,
She thinks my opinions are too radicalized and extreme,
That I am simply following the mainstream.

Rather, I’m plunging into the arctic cold water that is adulthood and with that comes autonomy.

I have the right to my own opinions and thoughts, she doesn’t have to agree with them, but punishing me for them? That’s wrong.

And that idea she brought up, about not being able to speak to her parents a certain way, aka disagree with them – I just don’t even know where to begin with it.

I expressed to her that I have self respect, and in having that I am willing to voice my thoughts without hesitation. Somehow she views that as entitlement.

In some fucked up way, she thinks that my “selfish nature” of loving and taking care of myself is uncalled for and a generational thing.

That wanting to go to therapy and wanting to eat fruits and vegetables is somehow entitled. I just want to take care of myself. I don’t want to be spoken down to. I don’t want to be hit. I deserve to love myself.

Godless Life

Atheism, beautiful, Creative Writing, fuck you, Her, home, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, Peace, Personal, Relationships

I’ll admit it, I’m happy they broke up – because for a short while I loved him.

I mean, who likes to feel replaced?  Who desires to see someone they would confide in become attached to someone new? not me.

Never me.

I may have disagreed with him on everything, he may have been an asshole at times, but I cared deeply for his shitty ass.

I hate that I cared, but I can’t help how I felt toward him.

But there he is. Sitting in front of me again, his gross hair that flips out at the bottom, his thick red jacket (the one that’s extremely fuzzy on the inside, the one that would keep my hands warm on rainy mornings before AP Psych). He got new shoes, I still wear the watch he gave me. a few weeks after we broke up he wore the leather bracelet I gave him, I wonder if he still has it. Why do I care? If he honestly came to me to make amends and try again I wouldn’t take him up on it – he hurt me too much.

He lied.

He dated Felicia.

He let me meet his family, when he knew he didn’t love me.

I loved him.

I could tell he didn’t love me.

I ignored it.

I’ll admit  it, as shitty as it makes me, I was happy when I found out his relationship wasn’t happy – I didn’t care that much if he loved her, I just was happy she didn’t love him.

He’s christian again,

lives with his crazy dad,

probably going into the military.

I’m atheist as fuck,

want to go to university,

I want to travel and live a godless life.

A life of love, of friendship, of tidiness and sex.

I want to burn candles on rainy days,

sleep in on Sundays,

read case studies and policies while drinking black coffee,

eat pomegranate seeds and avocado toast –

White bed spread.

Black bookshelves.

Wall of windows overlooking Seattle.

Seeing a therapist every Tuesday.

A clean fridge.

A white cat, miniature dachshund.

My godless life.

Reminiscing

beautiful, Creative Writing, Family, Journal, Love, Memories, Peace, Perfect, Small Things, Smiling

It’s 1:30am, I have about 5 hours and 10 minutes before I need to be up, but I can’t fall asleep. So, I’m up. And I’m writing. Because I have been trying to go to sleep since 9pm.

All I can seem to think about are my old memories. Very distinct and exact memories.

I can remember where everything went in my last house – the house where we lived as a family last.

I can still here the way the different doors creaked – I can hear the kitchen door that led out to our Asian patio. The way my mom’s desk looked, the stain on the carpet in the hallway just outside my room. The way the carpet came up just enough to see the green tile in my closet. The way the laundry hamper smelled in the hall. How we organized our freezer and pantry. Potatoes on the bottom shelf, onions too, both in wicker baskets. Those rice and blueberry treats mom would get from Costco. The guest house. How it always seemed to smell of barbecue chicken. The closet, weird coats, how we would go out there just to watch tv. The old cigar box in the guest house garage. The tire swing by the horse pasture, the orange grove, the brick wall, the nut trees by dad’s shop. How the orange trees smelled in the summer, the way snails would gather near the sprinkles, our pool. The second story of dad’s shop, how you could hear rain hitting the tin roof. The old war maps dad hung in his office out there. His big metal work table. The way the old blacktop road would burn my feet, mom’s white porch swing, our pomegranate tree. The lemon tree, the tree house we built with Callie. Mom’s garden. The basil plants. our compost pile. The brick fireplace inside, the big solid wood mantle above it. Dad’s bear hanging in the dining room, my pine piano. Mom’s brown rug. My music rack. The little patio outside the door off our breakfast nook. The lights suspended in there. Tig. The kittens. Our playhouse, and the summer we spent at the house before we moved in, sesame ring pretzels. Too much Febreeze. Mom’s clothes line. When dad worked in Vegas and mom made that bon bon ice cream that the whole block loved. Mom’s fourth of July parties. The vegetable stew she would made during thunderstorms. How we could see the beautiful mountains outside our kitchen window. When mom would wake us up by singing. Getting ready for youth group, that shimmery purple eye shadow I loved. The ivy wallpaper we had in our bathroom, the stone walk-in shower that’s light didn’t work so it was always dark. All the goddamn storage space in there. Our craft closet. Mom’s closet, which was always organized. The little garden outside mom’s bedroom, the wall of windows that were in front of her bed. Her beautiful bathroom, the high windows, tall ceilings, wood and stone everywhere. Our beautiful, expensive, World Market table. The wall of windows in our dining room. How mom would let us make an pillow fort out of the living room during the summer when Lacey and Katie would stay with us. That Thanksgiving when Uncle Winky brought his Brazilian friend, who was probably his boyfriend and we were all just oblivious to how gay he was. Sage and Sonia. Spending summers with the Deitz, their treehouse. Going over there to hang out with Jacob and Nate before any of us were out of the 8th grade. The year Jacob started high school, when he started driving, when he went off to college. When Carson started dating that dude with the weird name – playing in the orange groves outside their house, the palm fans. The mule. Callie’s horses. Going with her to mediation in the hummer, taking her to her dad’s house. Going to see movie’s with her and Melissa, always having diet Dr. Pepper and tootsie rolls. When Melissa would decorate for christmas, and their entire house transformed into a winter wonderland. Ms. Terri’s 15 foot christmas tree, staying out until 1am to help get ready for VBS at Foothill. The red berries. When Mrs. Hengst took her Sunday school class to see Mega Mind and I felt super left out.

Oh my god. Carson and Hayley are both married. Jacob and Nate both have girlfriends and are going to graduate college soon. Callie is a Sophomore. Riley and Katie are in college. Lacey is graduating this year. Sonni is at COS. What the hell happened to my childhood? I will never spend another summer at the Deitz cabin. I will never climb frog rock again or go to Dudley Ranch. I’ll never go hunting with my dad again. I’ll never go inside the 38o house…. I’ll probably never see the Sisto’s, or step inside Foothill.. Who knows if I will even see Delaney or Owen.. But I’ll never spend a halloween at their house, or go into  their treehouse with those weird little brown berries that fell off their tree, or see their clawfoot bathtub filled with plants that DD put outside her bedroom window, or watch Owen obsess over Cars or Nate over spongebob or Jacob playing Call of Duty on their family computer… I will never sit on the Deitz porch swing and hold kittens again, or see Boomer.. I miss their pebble walkway and watching everyone play volleyball on summer afternoons while Melissa obsessively cleaned her house.

I’ve only been writing for twenty minutes, but I just took a long journey back into my childhood.. I can’t believe where I am today, when I used to lay awake at night and think about my future. I never imagined my parents would divorce, and moving to the coast was always a desire but seemed far fetched. Going to a public high school? Unheard of. I’ve had three boyfriends? ALLYSA! Y0u were supposed to marry Jacob, Nate, or Caleb – preferably Max. C’mon! You were going to get married in Gramp’s church, with that nasty blue carpet and wooden pews and green cushions, the weird cross with backlights. But too much for that, because it has all been torn out and redone. Now it’s The Road. Those little lights that used to line the stage are even gone. The smell is gone too..  And you have been in every room in that church now, all the mystery is gone. The fear is gone. Now it’s just a musty old building, and the imagery of Burt is dead. You had your thirteenth birthday party there, it was really fun. You worked there, too. When you were 15. You watched your little cousins roam those halls, now. Oh yeah – Uncle Juano got married and has three kids. Uncle Wink has two. Aunt Ne has Ribbon now, and you lived with her as well. You miss that. You also lived with Nana and Gramps, your room was the one with the weird, old closet that always scared you. The one that used to be Gramp’s office with the bottles filled with sand and coins. Also, I don’t really have to tell you this because you kind of already know, but you don’t believe in God at all. But you already have your doubts.

So much has changed for me… I kind of just want to go to Katie’s trailor and just sleep among the musty old smell and bad internet. I want to wake up to the neighbor’s rooster crowing and the hill we all know is Goliath’s grave…