A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Take heart

You know what I want.
To just sleep.

Can't though.

Take heart

You know what I want.
My lighter in my hand.

Not gonna.

Burn

Things just
pile up
pile
up.

Feelings
that get too strong.
Control
that is to weak.

Escape.

Focus
Focus
Give me something to focus on
Give me something.
Give me pain.

I have a Sandwich in my fridge...I just remembered and I am so excited to eat it!

My BLOP my darling child. My blog my little dear.
I am sad to say I have been neglecting you. I shall fix this I swear! I'll be back in a bit!

Silly complicated life things

And words with meaning.
Deeper
deeper then they should.

Insomnia

"If wellness is this what in hell's name is sickness"

It is scary

I feel so jealous. All the time.
Jealous of things that I don't even want and most defiantly do not need.
I want so much. I hate how much. Yet I don't let my jealously and wanting affect my actions. At least I try not to, but I know that that makes me distant. That's the rub, trying so hard not to act a certain way, monitoring your actions and censoring thoughts, it can't be done. It leaves you so weary, so tired.
I'll tell you my fears of black abyss of internet:
I want people. Always and never.
The one truth I will always know to be true is that everybody leaves; no one stays.
So lonely, I desire companionship that can be counted on and possessed. I fear I will never again let myself believe this to be possible. And part of me feels I am right not to, it is the truth, one constant no one can escape. No matter how much it hurts.
I wish I was somebodies 'reason' reason to stay, to go, to smile, to laugh, to anything. Even cry. I want to mean something to somebody. Be something to somebody. Know that it is more then just me.
I hate how bitter I get about others who have this. It makes me sick and feel cruel. I want them to be happy, truly. But I wish I could have that. That I could be a reason to be happy. Or at least be happy myself.

Tired, tired all the time. Weary down to the bone.
Something is wrong and I won't fix it and no one can fix it for me. I wish they would make me handle it. Make me face all my problems. But I won't let them, and no one will ignore my pride and vanity enough to tell me to shut up and make me change.
Terrible but that is what I want.

More an Island than a Rock.

I wish I was better than this.

Neil Gaiman has the best quotes for Love

I really don’t know what ‘I love you’ means. I think it means ‘Don’t leave me here alone.’ 

-Neil Gaiman

Chekhov

Oh, it's all foolishness. A hopeless love is just something you read about. It's nonsense. All you have to do is get ahold of yourself, not sit waiting for something to change like waiting for the weather. If love worms its way into your heart, dig it out...I'll forget about it all - tear it out of my heart from the roots.

MASHA

  This is a line from the Character I read from today in theater: cynical, awful, girl who gave up and does what ever she wants

flaw'd heart, Alack, too weak the conflict to support! 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly.

The losing card I'll someday lay

Merde.


Side note. Ya know when a screen goes black on a computer but its still 'lit' well I wish my skin was a clear as it looks reflected in there.

First weeks of college

I had planned to have a post about all the fun things that have happen (late night runs for cheesecake, jam sessions) and about all the new things down here in Virginia (guys with southern accents *swoon*) but I can't

Really other things are taking precedence, I might get help soon. I was told that I should and that it is a good thing, but I'm scared.
How hypocritical is that though, a psychology major afraid of counseling. How could I ever expect people to come to me with their problems abd help them like i want to, when I myself can't convince myself to.
I kind of know that I have too. Ive brought up to someone that I know I meed help and that something is wrong. Thats a small start but one all the same.

All the little pathetic things keeping me here in this place I hate and yet I am
Scared to actively leave.
I am scared the most about all the things that I have started to realize that someday I am going to have to admit to someone. I will tell someone these things someday, like I have started to before. And I'm scared of what will happen then. How could I trust anyone with that. I know whats wrong about me and I hate it all and am embarrassed by myself.
What am I going to do with me.

There are these things. These, secrets that I sometimes can push out of my mind but I am starting to wonder if that isn't always going to be an option. And how I could even admit my weaknesses to anyone. How, when I know how differently I could be treated. How could I trust anyone to know and still stay. I feel horrible for thinking that, I love my friends but I am in a place where it is baffling that anyone would want to be near me. I'm sorry.

I am strong. I am strong.
But most the time I am so amazing weak. Mostly because I am tired of strong.

Meaninglessness its self is meaningless.

So many things
So many little things
I wish I could love with reckless abandon.
Find small and meaningless comfort from a moment ill spent.
I blame my morals
but really
I don't want you to know,
I want to be someone you could still like
Look back and think
'yeah, what happen'

So really I have you to blame.
My inability to have a downward spiral
and ruin myself slowly
and live off of desire and comfort.

Some of the comments made me *headdesk*

Reading the comments to this video are making me. if anything, MORE of a feminist... no something that I ever planned on doing.
Also I have come to the assumption that males and females really have no clue about each other.
More insightfulness will be added once I can organize my thoughts and not just rant.
***look here for future edits***

Blue, the most human color

All I want to listen to is Lily Allen, Kate Nash, Regina Spektor, Amanda Palmer, Katzenjammer, and Rasputina.
I love when music makes you feel like they are singing just for you.

A Story in GIFs

Ergo,

And, 

When did this August thing happen!

I'm tired

Thank you for telling me, repeatedly, that I am not normal. That there is something wrong with me. That I have problems.
I know.
Trust me I know.
But thanks for reminding me. I might have forgotten.
We wouldn't want me to think I was okay. No.
We wouldn't want that.

The concept of beauty and the lie behind it.

Facial symmetry.
All of our ideas of beauty are left over reactions to times past when symmetry signified genetic health.
This is practically useless now-a-day. Society is a cruel invention filled with backwards ideas of insignificance and ugly. The pedestal of perfection that we call beauty is unattainable at most and at least is detrimental to our mental heath as a whole.
Beauty is our own cruel invention.
Ugly is now synonymous with different. But what is wrong with diversity? Going back to a strictly genetic school of thought, diversity is the goal. A large genetic pool eliminates problems that come with genetic disorders; a wider group of genetics to pull from means more combinations of genetic code and less ways that the code can be messed up. But that is thinking purely scientifically, something that can not be done 100% of the time.
Different is wonderful, it allows for the world to be seen in new ways and for thoughts and ideas that can bring about great periods of change. It is the different, the ugly, those that do not fit that have the ability to grow and bring about upheaval where it is so desperately needed in a society of close-minded people that spend their time setting a standard that can never be attained.
Think of how horrid of a life this is for anyone to be born into, they will never attain the perfection that is the obsession of society. We are beauty obsessed. There is no question about it. Those with any trait that is not considered the norm is stigmatized and pushed to the back both in social situations and financially. Those that are considered exceptional as far as beauty goes lead a different and easier life then someone considered to be ugly.
The secret though, is that this label of ugly comes with the opportunity to be stronger.
Beauty is a lie, the greatest and cruelest of all the lies.

Looking back at what I said

Friday, June 24, 2011

Shed no tears until seeing the coffin.

why does that comfort me so much

I can now say, coffin seen and tears shed that no, it did not. And I cannot wait until this can comfort me again, but I wonder if it ever will.

Pardon My French

C'est bordelique! Do you have ANY idea of hard it is to please ALL OF YOU AT ONCE! I cant even keep myself mostly happy and I am still expected to coddle all of you! Fous le camp, you are supposed to be the parents and yet I have been doing your job for dieu sait combien de temps.
I will never be perfect like any of you want me to be, your expectations are outrageous and frankly make me hope I either get kidnapped or die young because a lifetime of this will either kill me or drive me mad.
C'est nul! Yes, sometimes I will screw up royally and get things wrong but it is perfectly within human rights to fail every now and again and you know what I DON'T CARE IF I DO! Because I will figure it out with time, and all of you shoving your idiotic forms of logic down my throat dose nothing but make it perfectly clear that you will never be happy with anything I do. So why do I keep trying? Je n'ai aucune idée putain.
This is my life, a small part for if I were to describe it in whole and have to lay it all out infront of myself where I can behold it all, I don't think I could live with it and I don't know what I would do...
:
I wake up to the scream "get down here!" around 8:30, I do downstairs to see what the urgent problem is. It is nothing. I get that look, you know the one you give me, the one where I can tell you eyes are looking me over and lingering on my bed head, my pimples, my sweatpants and I just what to scream "Je me suis réveillé salope!" You screamed for me you made me run down here and now I know what you are going to say. "Oh my God clean yourself up. You are trash, just look at you. Do you think you will ever get anywhere looking like this? You think you will ever get any guy looking like this? What is wrong with you"
And I can say nothing DO nothing because this is your cruel game to play everyday.
I finally get to leave, to go upstairs again and fight for another 30 min or so of sleep and try no to hear your scream over and over again on the broken record of my head. Then I really get up, I brush my teeth the ones that I will never hear the end of the ones that you make me get braces for before I was rid of of my baby teeth, the ones that through your own impatience have messed up so thoroughly. My skewed bottom incisors. My upper canines that sit a little too high, a little too much like fangs. My slight over bite. And I can hear as if you are there and saying it out loud how ugly that is. How ugly MY mouth is.
I get dressed. I put on jeans even in the summer heat because I am ashamed of my legs that are a little too long and too fat for my small body. There is a hole in the knee from over use and a spot of green paint on the thigh for some old painting that drove me to fling my paint brush. I know this will not escape your notice, so I put on the brightest top I have, the one that after I bought you complained that you had wanted for yourself *vomit* I hope that this will make you not notice the other little imperfections, that this will make you happy. That this will make you like me enough to get me off the hook for another day.
I go to the bathroom again this time to tackle my hair. MY hair. The mousey brown hair with the strip behind my ear that is bright blue. Not exceptional. It is wavy curly. You hate it. You blame it on me, you blame MY own dieu maudit hair on me, as if it is a mistake that something needs to take blame for. It is a crazy mess or almost curls and small ringlets and little its that want to fly right off my head. And I love it sometimes, except when you look at me. Then I hate it, I want to rip it out straight from the roots like you have threatened to do so many times before. You wish it were straight, sick straight like your own dead mess that you chemically straighten, lifeless and just as eager to lay flat as it is to stick straight up like wire. You tell me everyday, "Just straighten your hair, then you will look normal, you will look like everyone else! You are disgusting it is like an afro. Disgusting, Trashy."Maybe I cave today and straighten it into submission, so it looks as dead and frayed as your own so that maybe it can be a peace offering and you will love me despite my hair. Maybe today I am sick of your merde and let it be its self, maybe braid a bit of the front, maybe but it up in a clip, maybe pull it back and put a headband in. Whatever I do it will not be enough. It never is, because it is not what you want.
The rest of my day is spent pretending I am not myself. That this is not my life. I do everything you told me to do around the house and nothing more, because if I were to you would complain I did it wrong and tell me I am retarded and ask yourself where did you mess up on such a daughter. Still I know when you get home you will sigh and bring up all the little things I could have done. The ones that you have conditioned me not to do because I fear your anger and accusations of stupidity if I do it any other way but the way you do it.
Then you come home and the first couple of moments will set the tone for the rest of that day. If you are nice and talkative it will be a good night. I will read or watch a show and then go to bed. If you look at me and I see your eyes focus on all the little things I know that I am screwed. I want to scream and yell and kick something hard until I hurt. Maybe I get defensive right away and cause you to let your anger out all at once and sit through the yelling and pain and the words that my mind will whisper back to me as I try to sleep.
I always try to do something else inside my head as you rant , maybe I sing something, maybe I tell myself a story. It never works I still end up hearing your words clear enough that I can repeat them all back to myself later. I don't look you in the eye, I look slightly above or below because the complete hatred and the manicness scares me. It is not normal. People do not behave like that, they don't say things like that, they don't do these things that will hurt. But when I say this, you tell me to grow up. Stop acting like a baby, stop crying, stop pretending to be hurt.
These things always end with you telling me to get out, to leave, to move out, that maybe my father wil want be but not to count on it how could he ever love me. And then you play the martyr and tell me how you always bought me everything I wanted always put me first and went with out because of me, for me. And I hear you blame your own pain on me. But I never asked for any of that. I never even wanted any of that.
I would have loved having a life where all I had from my family was love or at least acceptance. I don't need things. I don't need you to give up things just so you can later say HERE LOO! LOOK at all this I did, you owe me. I gave you this and I deserve this and that.
Ungrateful.
Disrespectful.
Give me love to be grateful for having, give me some reason to respect you.

You pitiful woman. Get help.
God knows I'll need it too.

Comment suis-je encore en vie. It is horrible knowing that you will never be good enough. You consider doing a lot of drastic things.

#feelings

Maybe I could have loved you better. Maybe you should have loved me more. Maybe our hearts were just next in line. Maybe everything breaks sometime.
Dammit Jewel, you have all the words I guess

Life isn't just a sequence of waiting for things to be done

This is an invocation for anyone who hasn't begun, who's stuck in a terrible place between zero and one.

-ZeFrank

I tried it.

I tried to write again.
And now I hear your voice saying it over and over. You never even said it out loud, you acknowledged it out loud, it 'out loud existed' but you never said it.
I can hear now and it hurts as much as it ever has, which is much more then it ever should have.
I know why, its because you said everything I ever feared and fought against about myself. You are making me have to face this. My fears I never allowed to be realized were suddenly unavoidably real and I couldn't hide. I will get over this, having to second guess every word I write, or think to write or want to write. Or really just words. I am kind of afraid for my words even these words right now, and these words were always the easiest to me; they are just what I need to say, still I find my brain saying "these are not good enough" and then I begin to edit myself. I never want to edit myself. My words have just as much of a right to everything as everyone else's.

Still:
I am afraid of the lack of justice I have to give them.
I am afraid that they are fake.
I am afraid that somehow they will never be what I so need them to be.

I worry about how they are perceived and what, in turn they say about me. And that is okay. I am okay. And my words are okay.
Your moment of harsh words, unintentionally meaningful and unknowingly cruel, have stayed with me. And I will get over that.
If nothing else I have no more choice but to be honest with myself. And I have no choice but to only write what I am most happy with.

I really hope this gets funded!

I'm calling it

Right here and now. Mark my words cause if I'm right then I know whats gonna happen. And it's gonna hurt a lot.

No Thank You

It is funny how you can spend so much time wishing a certain thing would happen, think about it and glorify it and think 'Man, if only'. Then everything would be better. It would make sense and be okay. You build it up, and when ever it is a moment of complete darkness you remember 'if only' and the darkness dose not feel so bad because you know that this one insignificant thing could fix it all. It becomes the cure-all, the antidote fir every poison.
But some rational part of you says that to hold something so high is wrong. It is an invitation to fall. So you reject it. Make it so that it us not even an option, no possibility of it exists in your mind. It is the fairy tale you use to calm yourself at night when shadows of monsters approach pulling at you, but know in your heart that it is not true. It is make believe and nothing more, nothing real.
But a tricky thing occurs, the thing that event finally happens. The mind struggles between feeling relieved and simply...not feeling. It goes against your rational. It can not happen. It was never meant to happen. Yet it dose and you scream out inside. In an instance you relive all the darkest times all those moments you cried out for this to happen to be a sign of something, of memory or hope. Now that formerly significant thing is hated, it is what made you have the darkness in the first place. You regret all the times you wished for it.
Oh the hilarity, the bitter hilarity of these turn of events.
By funny, I mean not funny at all. Not funny, but sad.

A rewind to Thursday December 30, 2010

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

- Neil Gaiman

You are allowed to say these things once you I are not, I suppose.

Some people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them- The Fault in our Stars, John Green

Productivity at its Finest

Insomnia is always fun.
My ways to combat the sleeplessness:

(if due to racing thoughts/over-thinking Visualize the thought as a piece of paper stretched across the frame of your mind, rip it to shreds.
Visualization also could involve the thought as an image, canvas or picture which you then can 'paint' over.
(due to any cause) Load up on over the counter sleep medication (warning, I have to take more then recommended to even get a little drowsy. And I'm tiny. So they may be useless. At least it could work as a placebo)
Make a story or world or character in your head, then complete the story, explore the world, or become the character. I do this a lot with story ideas I have had or with short bits I have written. This is a nice distraction from any bad thoughts as well as getting your focus away from being tired and any stress that comes with not being able to sleep.
Write to yourself. This can be thoughtful or seemingly meaningless. (this 'writing' can be physically getting up and writing, leaving yourself a message in your phone, or simply stepping back from yourself a telling yourself in your own mind.
Pray, be it about the problem (insomnia, racing thoughts, emotions, sickness or whatever your cause) or simply having a nice little chat with God.
Soul search (could be in conjunction with the writing one) think through yourself. Your actions, emotions and thoughts.
Listen to music (whatever genre/artist/playlist is most likely to calm and distract you, for me it is Flogging Molly)
Read a book (hopefully not one you will have problems putting down as this is only meant for a short term distraction)
Make a list- of any thing. Thought if the insomnia is due to a thought based problem this could have the opposite effect.
Have a fake conversation with a person. (aka talk to yourself inly pretending that your answers or questions are from another)
Write on your blog. As I am currently demonstrating.

Absolute NO-NOS:
Do not, for the love of God and all that is holy, 'check Facebook' UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES IS THIS A GOOD IDEA.
Don't start watching TV, too much stimulation and is detrimental to sleep.
No late night eating. Bad. Plan. (surrounding circumstances might allow for this one)
Do not Text someone. (Usually a bad plan in my case but this is the most subjective)
NO YOUTUBE VIDEOS, once you start it is near impossible to stop when you really should.

This has been my tips and tricks of Insomnia.

Well that's Ironic

Spooky. I wish it was more then just a coincidence.
Somehow I can't believe it would be true.

Aeschylus

He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.

Insomnia

The dream is okay, reality is the nightmare.
Theres a lot of suffering going on, and you can't dream all that away. It lingers after the dream, and worms its way into it.
Polluted.

Mumford and Sons night

I know that things are broken
And though there’s too many words left unsaid
You say you have spoken
Like the coward I am I hang my head

...Where was my fault...

This is not the end
Lived unbruised, we are friends
And I'm sorry
I'm sorry

Sigh no more, no more


And if your strife strikes at your sleep
Remember spring swaps snow for leaves
You'll be happy and wholesome again
When the city clears and sun ascends

The way I Imagine it

This would be my best guess

Or wish.

Maybe I'll show you someday, I'd want to.

Wishes

Wish I could fast forward two weeks or rewind the same.

19 years old

I hate this.
I think I just grew up and figured out that this is the way life will feel from now on.

Summer, spring, winter, fall I want those times back then they were all the same. When they were the same monotonous thing all melted together, and you couldn't tell one from the other.
That is better then the constant shift of emotion now, ups and downs and no middles.
Time used to be all squished together, all the same no point ending or beginning. A line. A constant down.
But I knew what to expect.
Its just endings now and forced beginnings. And a general acceptation that everything I ever wanted, wished, or hoped for is just as fake as the rest of this pathetic place.

Sentiments mean nothing. Keep them they'l do me no good anymore.

Once more with feeling.

Happy Birthday to Me.

I Know how it will End

The Doctor: Vincent, can I help?
Van Gogh: It's so clear you cannot help. And when you leave—and everyone always leaves—I will be left once more with an empty heart and no hope.
The Doctor: My experience is that there is, you know, surprisingly always hope.
Van Gogh: Then your experience is incomplete! I know how it will end. And it will not end well.

Chances

Take all your chances while you can
You never know when they'll pass you by
Like a sum the mathematician cannot solve
Like me trying my hardest to explain

Forget. Remember.

One of the worst feelings in the world is loneliness. Sitting in the dark by yourself in the wee hours of the night gently crying. Nobody knows what's going on with you.
Everybody you know is resting peacefully in their bed awaiting the new day tomorrow.But for you, there's no difference in the days. They pass monotonously.

But that's not true.
You can remember every one. Every single one.
And I can still remember what I was. Sometimes that's worse.
It is so hard to believe what it used to be like, how that could even have been. All those times, those bits before.

Like I made that all up
Maybe I did.

No sleep

too much of Myself isn't
My own.

I keep only the Sad
for Me

I knew it

It's true.
Everyone will hurt you
Everybody leaves

You have to deal with it.
No one can help their nature.

Google found it...might have changed it a bit.

Love and trust, take risks and live.
Of course do these things…
But keep a tiny bit of soul to cuddle up to
A tiny reason and part of you
Which wants to love and try again

Where do I go.

A year ago I was happy. I was content, I knew what it meant to be me, I knew my self.
I have become a stranger, something unknown here awake in the dark crying and wanting no comfort. Maybe I have changed, or maybe this was part of me I never knew before. Maybe both. Suppose I will never know, and it dose not matter.
I will crave the days I knew my way and my world. When I knew Pain, a sharp break or yell, and Love, a voice or hand there for comfort and reassurance being told there was so much more.
What I miss is the feeble hope and desire to know that not everyone has to leave you. That maybe somethings were forever. Things could change, life was good, there were people and places that would remain, alone wasn't the only option.
I am not worse for having felt this, for having known these. But is it for the better that I know and fell and yet they are lost to me now?
In my sadness I can not answer, and if I could I don't think I would want to know right now.
Here in the dark all I have are my thoughts and memories and wanting to sleep to forget. What of waking up though, maybe that will suck the most, what if in the first moments between day and night I forget, and it will start all over again.
There will always be more. More writing. More pain. More love. More loss.
More ends.


There was a fall, a beginning, and it hurt most if all, if only because it was unexpected. For the End all that can be said is that it will not soon be forgot.

Things mean so much

Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

It hurts so much here

AGAIN!! <3

Haha Dinozzo always diKnowz best ^_^ yey for NCIS

Poison Baby

Poison Baby by rebel-diamonds on polyvore.com

Not even this

What is left for me

Humanity

my faith in you is waning. Im tired of the messes you put yourselves in, luckily neither your nor my salvation rests in my feelings towards us.
Or we'd all be dead.

Break, Break Break

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

The Bard

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
(Hamlet, 1.2.123-6)

How True

See Clearly Now

You are just your mask. And cruelty.
Anything you ever pretended fell away and we see that which you always denied- that you are just the same, you are what you always hated and feared.

Letter

I will not let myself miss you.
Sorry. I wish you were too.
X

Back to Work

Those perfect summer day were never real
the ideas couldn't last.
Adolescence held promises of days lying in the sun.
Content. Happy without fault. You grow up and the image fades. Reality sets in and the pain begins.
A day so perfect could never.
"these moments as beautiful as they are...are evil when they're gone"

Like a child

I wish I never had to let go.

Dreams will still find you when I can not
I envy them.