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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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.

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.

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.

Dear Dad

Atheism, Blame, Church, dancing, Family, fathers, feminism, fuck you, god, Humanist, Journal, Love, Perfect

Dear dad,
I want you to know that I love you. I haven’t been able to say that in an incredibly long time. I haven’t been able to admit to myself in years that I love you.

I want you to know that you have hurt me – that I suffer on a daily basis because of your reckless actions.

I want you to know that because of your abusive actions, I was forced to become an adult at 13.

I want you to know that I hurt every time I see a picture or a mention of you on social media, because I have desperately tried to cut you out of my life.

I want you to know that because you weren’t there for me as a little girl, I tried to find love in a ruthless world. In a world where finding love is genuinely difficult – where I am taught to not love myself. In a world where having you by my side would have solved a lot of problems. I wanted you there.

I want you to know that I want you to love me more desperately than I’ve ever wanted anything else.

I want you to know that I don’t expect you to come back into my life, that I don’t expect anything from you, that this has made me bitter, hurt, and angry.

Which is why I hate to say I love you. Why it is bitter for me to say I love you. Why I roll my eyes at myself and am left in confusion when I say I love you, because I shouldn’t.

You abused me.
You don’t pay for child support.
You ignore my text messages.
You controlled me.
You manipulated my perception of myself.
You hurt me beyond all means.
You were not there for me.
You never made the effort to reenter my life.

I have every reason to hate you.
But I don’t.

I should.
But I don’t.

I want to hate you,
But I can’t.

Despite all you have done to me, I regret to inform you that I love you. I know that this doesn’t change our relationship – that it will continue as per the legal documents instruct; That we will see each other on the holidays listed, that I will no longer be on your insurance at 26, that you won’t be responsible for my child support after 18, and so forth.

But by this point, I should be used to not having you in my life. Or not having your “financial support”, which you have only given me once. I should understand that you only have me in your life when it’s convenient for you, when it looks good to that girl you wanna date, or when it helps you get custody of my little sister in court.

I understand that the extent of your love for me ended when you found out I was an atheist, that I wasn’t going to stand for you trying to convert me back to Christianity. You never tried to talk to me after that last weekend.

Remind me again why I should love you?

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.

Love Many Times Over

Her, Hope, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Poetry, Small Things, Smiling

I live for the feeling of excitement,

The moment you realize you’re doomed.

When the emotions capsize and leave you helpless

In the otherwise dead, lifeless world.

It’s much like the sensation of cold wind on warm day,

Leaving your neck hairs standing on end.

The fastened heartbeat, shallow breaths,

Future flashing before your eyes.

When you realize you’re in love again.

Poetry

beautiful, Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, Nature, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Poetry, school, Small Things, Smiling

Sweet voices, little voices

they wander in the garden.

Saying words that mean so little –

Saying words that mean so much.

Their words traverse through the garden,

they wander aimlessly.

The little voices have little feet

that will carry their bodies far.