blog history
Behold, scanty readers, my blog history. I organized them in the order that I made them. Some of them were hidden, others like Make Yourself were main blogs. The Tumblr URLs are just photoblogs comprised of photos that most likely not mine, just things I connect with. Anyway, here you go.
“And nothing’s gonna change that hopeless feeling I get when you say you’ll undertsand I know you can’t.”
5/26/11
I see her posts and I message her and I truly, truly wish I could show her another way. Emotions can be destructive but if you can’t put in the effort to change your mentality, ever so slightly, you will see results. It would be easier to tell her my opinion on most pharmaceuticals. They are a lie, a joke. They aren’t there to help you, they’re there to rake in your money and fuck up your health later on in life. I mean really, if you have cable have you seen all those goddamn commercials about certain medications that end up altering the health of you or your newborn child.
Depression is an overused word. Sometimes people are simply sad or a bit down. I’ve never felt the full force the extremities so I can’t fully judge her emotions. She ought to be entitled to do what works for her. For me I’ve felt low several times for various reasons. When I was younger I felt like a lot like this Gerard Way quote, “I was so addicted to self-destruction, I think more than the drugs. Something very romantic about it.” I know how it laces itself into your thoughts, your chest; my throat, I could hardly speak. It disables you in some ways, and eats away at you inside in an indescribable pain that no one could understand, no matter how much they say they could. So do get some of what she may be going through.
How self indulgent of us to even succumb to such a depression. I have really scattered emotions but once you find the right people to rely on and talk to you feel a little better, bit by bit. I’ve talked a lot with my mom about it and honestly if I didn’t have her as a parent I would probably be on an anti-depressant. And I know most parents want to do what’s best for their child but we are just so ignorant of the permanent affects of anti-depressants. They make you feel better for a while but once you’re off of them the chemistry in your brain has changed.
Depression is something I believe people could learn to work around. I’ve been through too many situations in my short fourteen years where people have tried to or have made a permanent decision based on a temporary feeling. While you’re in it it feels really bad. I know, I know, I know. I felt that for most of the six months that I’ve been here. There were days where I felt as if I couldn’t leave my bed, I couldn’t be around people who made me feel lonelier than before, alienated. Through all of that I would cry maybe once a day, but when I put my music on I knew I couldn’t call it quits because yes, it sucked balls, but I had too much I still had to live for. I think as long as you have a nice memory to hold onto or an event to look forward to, “something sweet to get you by” you can stand your ground.
Here I am now, the first day of summer break, and the depression has lifted.
(Here’s a little pick me up: Bittersweet Symphony)
sol·i·tude – a lonely or unihabited place
5/22/11
Take me out to the city
Where I can hear the music and I can see the lights
Over a façade, under a façade
Everything’s alright
You keep saying it, but the words are distant like you
He said to be hollowed may be the best in our situation
I feel different, but I don’t feel like I’m growing up
Stuck, stranded in the vastness of all this green farm land
Nonexistant to anything breathing
A face no one will remember
I want to looks through records and count all of the smiles I see in a day. I want to breathe in the sounds, let the muggy air choke me up. Take pictures of the dirtied dilapidated buildings. I want to admire culture and feel whole while I’m doing so because every time I go to First Fridays with just me and my mom I start to depersonalize myself until I feel empty. My mind becomes vacant and all that I’m really aware of is my solitude and the solace of despair while everyone else is blithesome.
THE CHILLING TAPE
Here’s a download link to this sweet mixtape I came across today while hounding Tumblr. The mix is mainly comprised of chill R&B songs, hence the name of the mix. I found it reall soothing after coming home and be upset. The link I’m giving you takes you to the page on Tumblr that lists all the songs out so you know what’ll be in the download. Enjoy.
A LACK
5/18/11
No one appreciates emotion and passion anymore, it’s all laughs. We are the children of disrespect and hollowness. Paradoxes. It’s those trilogy rules that we’re growing up with—all rules abandoned; what you once knew as the truth is false, bare—only a simple component to the entire equation. I could make a movie and try to show the world in its complexity and most viewers wouldn’t be able to evaluate the main point, that we must change for the world, not change it for us. Society is borning children who reign from Death and the Fucked-Up but no one wants to put in the effort to mend and fix the wrongs, to make it right. We let ourselves rot internally with emptiness and despair. I used to see the world as this progressive place because I grew up in a progressive environment. All the people I loved, who nurtured me unknowingly, they are forgetting me. While I’m standing still their lives are moving forward. I am the moss on the abandoned house and the people who once knew me are the passersby who disregard me. My mind is succumbing to The Lack. I’m Lacking in too many ways. I understand the drugs and addictions—to make the hollow feeling go away. Yet even after the drugs they still wish the feeling had been nonexistent. We are the children of destruction and apathy.
Fighting off his heroes with his shipmates
After I made that post yesterday I proceeded to write an extensive two page entry in my journal of just raw thoughts. I don’t want to re-read the entry because I would lose the now trying to undersatnd yesterday’s feelings, but it felt good. Finally after some time I felt a release just from spewing words onto a blank sheet of paper. I don’t want to have any expectations as to whether I will continue in a streak but by doing this, this breaks down the assumed invisible boundaries that have been blocking creativity and fluidity. — But who cares about my thoughts? Who wants to spill empty words into their head?
After I’ve regained my writing abilities I want to write something meaningful. Maybe a few short stories on my Quizilla or Mibba account. Would anyone read them? I want to write something that means something to at least one person other than myself. Every time I look back on my stories they lack character, they get lost in description that doesn’t quite evoke emotion but simply paints a picture. I want something more.
What do you say to taking chances?
I feel like I owe my scanty readers an apology. I wanted to start this new blog to see myself and my writing progress this year and I haven’t written on it since February. I’ve made a few dull journal entries and wasted loads of time on a vacuous short story that really isn’t going anywhere. It’s just that I’ve lost my sense of inspiration. All the things that I could put to words in the past are getting harder and harder say. I think it’s because my social skills are lacking in the real world. I could do a lot better –with everything; my attitude, writing, school work, etc. My problem was that a fell into the cracks for a while. I didn’t want any kind of obligation and I just took everything for granted in that two and half month period. That’s exactly what I wanted to get away from with this new blog. I wanted to reinvent myself as I person I liked, or wanted to be. But I can’t. It’s so silly of me to be worrying over something so simple, yet so complex as this when the world and society is falling to pieces, and people are in dire situations right now. How stereotypically American teenage of me.
Lately I’ve been looking to photographs and music for signs of inspiration or connection. Though, the most that I can really make sense of lately is Arcade Fire and anonymous heartfelt Tumblr writings.
You’ve got me tangled like a bread tie twisted
2/26/11
I’m not ignoring your encouragement because I have taken everyone’s words into account and applied them, but I’m still left with this wafty cell of sadness that rebuilds itself into a sickness. My uneasy state can unfold from the upsetting of a trivial matter, for example if someone with more authority than me felt in the mood to single me out. She treated me like a squit piece of dirt, sanded the ashes of her figurative cigarette into the earth. What gives such disgusting human beings the right to light you up and let you burn out with the uncomfortable sound of your crying? We are not all the same. I’m realizing human beings are much more complicated than the sunshine and daisies Disney portrays life to be on children’s television shows. When you figure this out it’s as if you’re suddenly thrust from your youth into a more adult state, caught in a deluge of overwhelming truths where there is no easy slipping away from.
My loneliness is usually the most unbearable when it’s replaced by this longing for some sort of gypsy life style. The most influential thing in my life is music because music is the feeling you can’t put to words. On Wednesday night I saw one of my favorite bands, Cage The Elephant. As of late their music is so resonatingly chaotic, the lead singer makes like he has a battered and bruised psyche and I can’t help but cling to his words. I was thinking back to when I saw them last June and spoke to him before the show. He was so polite; he shook my hand, introduced himself, and seemed as if he really listened to my appreciation. Later I think he recognized me in the crowd so when I reached my hand out towards him he returned his hand and I clasped onto that hand with every fiber of my being. It was deeper than the regular preaching of teenage girls about lost loves and “sadness” because they’ve twisted their lying realities into clichés. I had been feeling pretty unhappy last summer and I don’t know, just being able to hold your hero’s hand is a gift. My longing is that I wish I knew him personally because he seems like the type of person who listens to your “big think” rambles.
It’s easy to obscure the sound of other people’s opinions and deny the form of awareness they may be preaching. It’s easy to do this because I think if we are untouched by the scraping and hollowing of the world’s words and problems you are bordering narcissism. All people want to hear is the sound of their name from your lips. They get so caught up in you listening to them that they don’t make time to return the favor. I’m tired of being treated like a second-hand citizen by strangers. I’m not going to change for them, I have no plans to.
Bones sinking like stones
2/7/11
The homework is just too much. Swallowed by the fear of obligation and the phrase “the daily grind”. To collapse in bed and just sleep. Sleep through everything until it passes along with the make-up load. “Out, out, out, I will never get out.”
saintsintothesea 