quotes of the night

"never forget that we are awesome people who need to be deserved and fought for."
...
"welcome back."

spoken like a genius from the one and only Asher

becoming un-numb

my last post is pretty ironic, considering I haven't posted anything online since in Rome. but I have been writing, just privately in my journal since I rarely have wifi or time to transcribe what I've written.

but tonight I write. why? because it's 4 in the morning here in Italy and I just got hurt and what else do I do other than blog about shit at these hours?

the details are unimportant. maybe they are, but it's just so redundant. this bullshit is never-ending and it just gets old, embarrassing, frankly pathetic to talk about.

what happened is not what I'm writing about. what I want to share is this:

I have felt complacent for quite some time. not happy, not sad, just going through the motions. **being in Italy is an exception to this statement

in other words, I have felt very numb. unable to feel

and I'm realizing tonight, that as much as pain fucking sucks, at least you can FEEL it. it is real. I am a real human being, with emotions.

I don't know if it's because I care about you, or more so that I care about MY dignity and self-respect, but I can't remember the last time my heart as thumped so loudly in my chest, that my hands have been so sweaty, or that my stomach has rested in my throat.

and I don't mean to say that I miss pain or turmoil, but I have missed being able to react. to care. this is refreshing, in a weird masochistic sort of way. maybe I feel liberated. maybe I feel weighed down. I don't know what the fuck I feel but at least I'm feeling something

it's like I've been in dreamland. that suggests some sort of idyllic state so maybe not dreamland, but zombieland. and someone has just pinched me. and I've woken up. snapped to.

my eyes are open and I can see. my heart is open and I can feel

where to go from here... that's something I'm still figuring out

Dusting Off My Blog

So I don't know who I'm speaking to. I'm essentially speaking to myself. I doubt anyone reads this shit, but that's not the point. I don't didn't write for other people, I write for myself; and I've let myself down. I used to write all the time, almost every day, if not by blog by personal journal. In fact I used to do a variety of things that qualified as "me time", like finding new music or researching subjects that interest me. But I don't know the last time I've done any of that - connected with myself - and it's not okay. I've lost touch with who I am, let myself go in an abstract, metaphysical sort of way. Writing brought me solace, clarity. I understand myself better when I can read the words that pour from my finger tips. But I gave it up because of that great thing we call 'life' getting in the way. I'm re-prioritizing.

Being in a foreign country, I'm discovering my lost independence. I'm being placed in situations I could have never imagined, and being tested like never before. (For example: the airline lost my luggage. This is day two of me having no personal belongings. They say it's coming, but that's what they've been saying, and I'm not holding my breath. As a result, my once-in-a-lifetime European adventure has occurred in my only pair of clothes.) But being finding myself in positions such as this has truly helped me grow as a person, realizing that clothes aren't the end of the world and I can still visit the country of my dreams without needing to wear the cutest outfit in my wardrobe (to look snazzy in all the pictures I'm taking, duh). What's more important is where I AM: one of the oldest cities in the world and my most lusted after destination, Rome. And I want to let it all out, to share what I've encountered, even if it's just my laptop I'm speaking to. I don't care. But it's time to dust off my blog and go back to my roots. It's 4 AM here but my thoughts are bubbling and I must keep writing..

I'm going to start writing about my travels. If that doesn't interest you, don't bother reading. But I'm going back to my roots, and writing about what I've learned.

There are bigger things

So today I got laid off from the best job I've ever had the opportunity of working. In turn I went to the beach and split a six pack between a homeless man and myself.

The alcohol helped but the real difference was made by walking barefoot in the sand, feeling the cold, invigorating ocean wash over my naked toes.

We discussed nature and "what is God?" and the magnaminities of life altogether. If for just an afternoon, my problems were quieted. There are bigger things.

I'm not sure what makes me cry more: when people are really, really mean to me, or when people are really, really nice..

Strange

Imploding

I am on the brink of implosion,
the weight of it all is heavy,
so heavy,
and drags me to
a central pinpoint
of nothingness.

Self-banishment

Wipe not these tears from my face but rather the image of my memory from your mind.

There is a blizzard inside my head

A vicious storm,
Flurries of blistering emotion
Lash cruelly about.
The icy snow
Whips at me,
Leaving me stung
And becoming numb.
So heavy does it fall,
My vision is obscured
And I cannot see.
I don't know the way.
Ambiguously I trudge on
Without direction,
My only aim being
Refuge from the enclosing chaos.
I fear the peace I find
Once I'm finally warm
Will only be the eye of the storm.

Trying

I try to write about how you make me feel.
I can't.
It's not that I can't articulate, that I can't remember
strong hands, safe embraces,
salty kisses and the
scent of your skin.
I can.
But the thought makes me sick.
And it's always highlight,
erase.

I'm trying.
To write, to talk,
To be normal,
Resume.
I can't.

love is a non sequitur
despite its many glorious felicities
no amount of logic
is destined to explain it

Ebenezer

Whatever, call me Scrooge. I officially don't like holidays.

Today feels much too like my birthday. A day I've learned to abhor since I was thirteen and began to think.

Why, you wonder? It has nothing to do with presents, expectations, etc.

It does, however, have A LOT to do with disappointments and let downs. Sooooo fucking much emphasis is placed on holidays... These - oh shit - "God given" days carry so much weight, and they only happen once a year. In turn, it goes without question that these "sacred" days are loaded with unequivocal significance, and throughout the years you are trained as a child to expect prepare for a certain something.

Again, this has nothing to do with presents. I recognize the holidays have a deeper meaning than gift-giving... such as the importance of family and whatnot. Don't get me wrong, I love my family. And that makes hating the holidays even more depressing... being unable to participate with the joy. I admit that a time or two I have found myself swept up in the "Christmas spirit"..

But that's just it. That's what I have an issue with. This spirit thing. The happiness your family not only expects to see out of you, but the happiness and excitement you yourself hope to feel. Or at least I know I was, waiting around for Christmas to come, as if it were some sort of cure-all... Because what happens when you're fucked up in the head like I am? And everyone wants you so desperately to just be HAPPY, 'tis the season and all that jazz?? And you just can't? And you lay in your room by yourself all day while your family enjoys the holidays because you can't snap your fingers and put a fake smile on? And what about when you're thrown curveballs??? So not only did the day suck before, but then it takes a 180 degree turn from how it was 'supposed to be'???

Personally, I'd rather just excuse myself from the holidays altogether. Pretend like my birthday doesn't exist. Start spending Christmas snowboarding and or some shit. It's bad enough that I have to deal with my disappointment annually, but why be even more of a bother to everyone else and sour their mood, too? I wish I could control my emotions. I truly, truly do.

And this is why this stupid blog is called "ramblings". Because I ramble over stupid, stupid nonsense. Even I want to punch myself in the face reading this gibberish.

snow

I
wantneed to go to the snow soon. I need the comfort. I need to be able to lie in the snow, feel the cold, the wet, the sharp sting of the snow touching my skin. I need to feel the suffering of my body just so I know the suffering in my head isn't alone.

risk

conflicted in happiness
torn at my essence
by a broken past and a promising future
dare i breathe in the delights of another
i wish to shed my hard protective shell
and let all that is delicate be nurtured
in the harmony of love my soul does flourish
but in discord its effect is devastating
i hang on to what is lost
so as not to connect with what is now
though i have put up strong resistance he has reached my insides
and he grasps all that is delicate
i wish to surrender to him
give up this insurrection
i want to sing in harmony a memorable melody
a song of one shared life
a song that makes cynics puke disdain
but in surrender i risk everything

without warmth

The cold finds us early now. Bites at our noses peeking above the covers, nips at our heels as we flee into the clothes that will protect us through the day. Warm me now. Warm me.

Hoping to Reciprocate

Everyone is cracked or broken in places they feel are irreparable, as sanity and joy slips through these crevasses caused by those instances in our journey we would like to forget. Are these vessels we inhabit supposed to remain in a pristine, tightly sealed condition, or are these crevasses created so others can seep in and do repairs or more damage? I have had a few sneak in and increase the gap, but this one has made his way in and patched up some of the damage with words of encouragement and an unwavering faith in me.

So after years of feeling that my broken status was less than ideal, I welcome those moments where he slips in and makes himself at home.

needy...

the need, drips from me
covering everything
I touch, everything
I come in contact with.
I try to catch it,
before it gets the chance
to ruin anything,
but it always does.
eventually, the neediness in me 
overwhelms it’s victims
leaving them 
worn and listless,
and seeking refuge

Do you ever feel that sinking in your stomach to the floor
When your hands won't stop shaking
And you can't take anymore?

Fun House Images

The timeline gets warped and I can’t find the opening – any opening – to get back in. I search frantically, trying every doorknob but they're not really doors they're just mirrors reflecting a fun house image back at me, big nose and wild eyes and electrified hair and I can't find the actual door. Life goes on around me but I don't get it, can't figure out how to plug back in and live, whatever that even means. I see them, everyday people, just walking on the street, or going to class, or smoking cigarettes in front of marble buildings built to outlast humans and I can't imagine. I just don't know how they do it. How do they get out of bed? And eat and dress and laugh and go out in the world, and how do they do it so effortlessly, so joyously? I envy them and pity them all the same. Sometimes I yearn.. oh how I yearn.. to join them, to fall in line and be one with the happy, sunny world all around – to be normal, so bone-crushingly normal it hurts my insides... and all these years later, still forever with my nose against the glass, an empty vessel waiting to be filled, a hollow head floating toward the ceiling like a sad balloon, wanting to fly free over the trees, nothing left to see except a red dot disappearing on the horizon.

Do you ever have those moments that no temperature or duration of shower can erase?

I took a shower to wash away this Grime of Emotions, clinging to my heart and soul. It wouldn't come off; soap and water does not help. The hot almost-scalding water poured over my skin, hitting every pore in case these Emotions were hiding there, clinging for life... but their power is strong and all I did was stand there with a sad face, the water hitting me with all its grace. I just stood there helpless. I felt my heart beating heavily, my thoughts can't even escape the might of Melancholy and Worry. I stood there, getting physically clean, but emotionally, I don't know. The skin on my fingers turned wrinkly and said it's time to get out. So I turned off the shower and dried myself off, but this Grime of Emotions was still there. My heart dropped and went along with the rest of the water down the drain.

Typical

The signs are all there.
Yet all I can see is
the sparkle in your eyes.