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.

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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.

 

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’m Fine

Creative Writing, Failure, fuck you, Her, Journal, Memories, no trust, Partner, Peace, Personal, Relationships

Tears dropped from her eyes, “I’m fine,” no one was there to hear the statement “I’m fine” desperately repeated in a hysterical plea.

How could she be fine? Her grandfather lay in the ground, deep in a concrete hole. She felt sick – Their last goodbye would always be that; Their last. 

“I’m fine,” the words stuck to her lips like fly paper “I’m fine” a lump rose in her throat, her stomach felt like it was filled with acid.  

Her mother walked through the door, “Guess who hit goal today!” Completely oblivious to the breakdown the girl was having. “The sweetest older couple came in and bought two temperpedics!”

In that moment she realized how much she meant. That her mother’s job had more significance than her tears.

Later that night her sister asked to hangout, they would go driving and get Starbucks, and talk. Really, her sister would do the talking and tune her out if she said a word. Or complain that she never listened and used her for Starbucks because the girl didn’t have a job to pay – when she had been invited, said thank you, and apologized for not having the funds – when her sister had insisted she get something and upgraded her drink from a grande to a venti without asking – but then blamed her. 

The sister would talk about cheating on her boyfriend of the time, about going out and partying, and when the girl didn’t respond with “Ooooh, take me!” She was met with a glare, and asked why she was being judge mental.

Like she was supposed to support getting wasted and cheating – but she loved her sister. She didn’t want her to feel like she was taking advantage of her.. She went out with her sister because it was the only time they spent together anymore.. Even though she felt used and unwanted, she went because it was her big sister. She loved her more than anything else in the fucking world.

“I’m fine” she laughed when she passed her ex on the freeway, making eye contact. 

“I’m fine” when she slept with someone who she barely knew

“I’m fine” when she got an average SAT score

“I’m fine” when the dude who ghosted her popped back into her life and disappeared again.

But the world was crippling her, weighing her down when she realized just how average and mediocre she would become. When she realized she would be like her parents and barely be able to afford to pay the bills. Questioning her ability to survive when she was already thinking about how to kill herself, and had been for the last six years. 

Thinking about her dead grandpa, realizing one day she would die and there nothing she could ever do about it. 

She was anything but fine, in a world that masked and beautified anything terrifying. She felt lost, but didn’t want comfort. She wanted assurance, she wanted answers that didn’t exist, but most of all she wanted to feel loved, when no one had ever taken the time to make her feel cared for.

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…

A Man’s Pants

Creative Writing, Journal, Peace, Perfect, Small Things, Smiling

There’s something about a man’s pants. It’s in the way they hang, the way they tell a story – you can see what he has gone through, whether he wears khaki, faded denim, or a starched pair of Levi’s.

But this man’s pants, they told a story unlike most others. His pants came up high enough for one to see his ankles – but no more.

What is the story behind this man’s pants? What happened to him – what has he gone through? Perhaps he is unaware of this oddity about his pants. Perhaps he knows full and well, and is waiting for his next paycheck to buy a pair that fit him. But the story is there, and it’s not my story to know.

Loving Endlessly (To An Extent)

feminism, fuck you, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Partner, Peace, Personal, Relationships

In the world, there is only one person you can truly count on – and that is yourself. While we – as human beings – do want to feel love, belonging, and predictability in the world; if you rely on someone for those things you can’t find true satisfaction and peace.

That’s why I’m looking to myself to find love, because I know it’s in me. That’s why I am accepting and loving myself for who I am right now, because the only person who will truly accept me 100% without judgement is myself.

Someone who doesn’t care enough about you, or who doesn’t see a future with you is not someone you would have lived a happy life with. Someone who uses you for affection and emotional stability is not a healthy partner, and you are better off without them. Someone who you disagree with on a constant basis is not going to make you happy in the long run, and you will be happier, healthier, and live a better life with out them in it.

If someone doesn’t love me, and we break up, then I see no loss.
If someone moves on and they didn’t want to be with me, there is no loss.
If you love someone and they do not love you back in the same way, there is no loss if they leave your life.

I’m better off alone, then with someone who doesn’t love me for everything that I am. I’ve learned this not just through breakups, but also with my father. He didn’t love me for who I was, and since he has been excluded from my life I have been happier and healthier. Toxic relationships never work out and will only drain you of the love you have. Save that love.

I love who I am, flaws and everything – because over attachment and stretch marks are me. Caring about things a little too passionately, that is me. I am embracing the fact that I overthink, that I am short, that I can be an awkward mess – because I don’t want to change anything about myself.

I do not need someone else to complete me or make me happy – I don’t need another person to fulfill my biological need of love and belonging. I love myself endlessly, and I belong to the world. I am happy this way.

Loving other people is also one of my things. I always love someone, whether it’s my dog, my sisters, or a love interest. I’m finding that it’s in my nature to love people and animals, it’s something that I as a person need to do to be happy. I care.

My Perfect Partner: Revised

Atheism, beautiful, Beauty, equality, Family, feminism, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Partner, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, science, Small Things, Smiling

About five months ago, on august 1st of 2016, I wrote a post about my perfect partner. While most of it is still true, I wanted to revise it. After going through my last relationship, some updating needed to happen.

My perfect partner would be taller than me, pretty fit or small, kiss really well. Someone who is sexual, and understand the appeal of large cities. Someone who would be down for adventure at any hour. They would remind me of what I love when I am sad. Preferably would have brown or dark hair, would wear leather shoes (probably oxfords or sandals). High libido. They would play chess, read for leisure, cook occasionally. Someone who would appreciate music with foreign lyrics and instrumental pieces. They would have the desire to see the world, to go places. Someone who loves foggy weather, as well as the rainy days. They would share my nerdy side, loving Lord of the Rings, Sherlock, The X-files, or whatever I’m interested in then as much as me. We would share the same taste in music and humor, I mean, a relationship with puns would have to be a good one. They kind of need to love sushi, because it’s literally my favorite. They would be an open-minded person who looks at (and doesn’t ignore) facts, someone who uses reasoning and skepticism to come to conclusions. A critical thinker, an intelligent being. Their occupation would be in a field of science or art, they would be a logical person with soft emotions. They would be passionate and caring, interesting but not a douche, kind but not in a delusional way. Ethically, I would see in them what I aspire to be. They would aspire to know everything they could, never stop learning. Someone who wants to make a change in the world, who is as crazy as I am in thinking that we could actually make a difference – but they don’t let that stop them.

Someone who would understand that I have my many emotional issues, and they wouldn’t guilt me for having them. They would understand that sometimes I need to be loved. Someone who wouldn’t mind my spam texting them, or that I over analyze the simplest of things. They wouldn’t mind that I can overreact to things, because let’s face it, I can make a lot of issues for myself. They would understand that I have a difficult time loving people, that I have a difficult time trusting someone after that trust has been broken. They would understand that I am a person who fluctuates in everything: emotions, weight, ideas. I’m constantly changing and don’t like settling.

Most importantly, we would want to make a relationship together work. We would make the other feel at peace, and loved. There will be no “if we’re still together then”, there would be trust and mutual satisfaction. There wouldn’t be that looming sense that one day we would break up.

I feel the intense desire to be in a long term relationship with someone like this. Surprisingly, nothing drastic has changed in the last five months, but a lot of little things were not the same anymore.

And of course, we would have to love each other.

Things That Make Me Happy

beautiful, Beauty, Future, Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, Nature, New, Peace, Personal, Small Things, Smiling

Waking up well rested before 10am
Listening to a song that gives me chills
Seeing a good piece of art
Plants
Dogs that are excited to see me
When my nail polish dries smooth
When the teacher says there’s no homework
Making inside jokes with old friends
Painting with watercolors
When I’ve mastered a song on the piano
The sound of a creek on a warm day
Making forts in orange groves with my friends
Knowing I have no where to be and nothing to do the next day
When I look in the mirror and think I’m beautiful in the morning
Baking
A really good kiss
Hugging for long periods of time
Writing letters to friends
The first cup of coffee in the morning
When it rains, and the smell of dirt roads afterward
Navel Oranges
Cats, when they hold onto your finger and nip at it
The way candle flames dance in the wind
Lemonade during summer
A cold pool
The satisfaction of finishing a book
When I think about everything I have accomplished
New journals
When I’m first falling in love, being obsessed with knowing every detail about the person
Seeing kids play together, making up stories
Doing something outrageously adventurous
Doing what feels right, supporting what feels right
Getting and giving gifts
Christmas – the food, the weather, the friends and family
Sitting by warm fires with my dog, feeling the heat lick at my skin
Camping with my family
Taking hikes in the mountains and seeing new things
Standing in front of the ocean and feeling the breeze catch my hair
When I’m alone and the song I’m making up flows perfectly
Getting out of the shower and all my makeup came off
Fantasizing about traveling the world
When inspiration hits and I do ten projects in one day
When my room is clean and organized
Seeing old happy couples doing simple things together
Watching babies laugh
Fridays
When I feel how much someone cares about me
Learning something interesting
Getting good grades
A good cup of tea
Christmas music
Looking at nature
Loving people
Watching people in big cities go through their day
Looking put together
Organizing messy places
Cleaning something that was really dirty
When I can take care of myself
Seeing happy families
Watching dads spend time with their kids
When someone lets you into their life
Caramels
Outfits that remind me  of why I get dressed in the morning
New jars of peanut butter that’s smooth at the top
Smiling so wide my cheeks hurt, laughing so hard that my ribs ache
Watching people do what they’re passionate about
Making playlists
Wrapping myself in warm fuzzy blankets on cold days
Doing what scares me, what makes me uncomfortable
Being so passionate, loving something so deeply that it never fades
Dark chocolate with sea salt
Attractive people
New bras
When someone understands me
When someone is genuine