love love love

Love is a jealous soul
Love is bleeding hearts spilling onto pages
Love is a candlelight that fills up a room
Love is the scar that greets you in the morning and follows you to the ends of your deathbed
Love is a black hole

Identity is never less than a mystery
But in this place I can scarcely grasp a sense of
This me I’ve built up over tears and troubled coffees
An illicit journey into a graveyard of rotting truths, burdened with past but gleaming with present
So I could learn to dress my naked self

Now I’m naked once more
My heart may overflow and I
Have never felt so much freedom
To be

When I sit down to write, I find most of the words that come out are about love. Always love. I could try to write about something else, but my soul isn’t in it. You have to be excited to complete a piece on something and love excites me extraordinarily.

Love, love, love. I want to bathe in love. I want to sing its praises. I wrote this poem about how when you are in love, it seeps into everything you do. It’s all you want to breathe, think, speak, sing, and write. You end up writing about only love. You sing love songs. You look at couples and smile and gush because you can relate so much. Love doesn’t like to share brain space. It also has the effect of making every thought that much happier and more beautiful and more positive. Everything becomes clothed in a new rose gold light.

I also wrote this poem about how love changes you. I am often a sad and depressed person. I am lonely. I am anxious. But when I’m with my love, I am not. I am happy and I feel connection and I don’t worry about my purpose or where I should be headed next or whether I am doing enough or how to make the pain stop … because … I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else or do anything else. I’d like time to stop and leave me in this bliss. It feels right. It feels like the only place I could be and that is meaning to me. There is no pain.

When I’m apart from my love, I still feel this happiness following me. The sad and depressed parts of me appear sometimes but they are not adequate descriptors of me. Not anymore. I spend so much time obsessed over identity. I want to know who I am and I build up an idea in my head. Identity is so important that even if it isn’t an identity to be proud of, I’m relieved to know I at least am someone and know who I am. But love comes along and sweeps that all away. Love shows me that this identity isn’t me anymore. Love makes me a new person and I’m left wondering who I am now that I am happy and now that love is the only thing I want to talk about.

Do I become someone who loses their identity in a relationship? Do I become merely a girlfriend, and not a person in my own right?

The fact is, I don’t care. Without my old identity, I feel naked. But nakedness makes me free. I realize that there is no comfort in knowing who you are when you hate yourself. And there is freedom in being able to live in the moment – to be able to breathe and feel the joy of being alive. And, yes, loving. There is so much freedom in love.

Advertisements

an #amcurrently post

its nearing the end of february and i am excited

im in a good head space right now. ive just finished my summer school course and felt more confident about this paper than perhaps ive felt about any other so we will hope that means amazing things. either way, im excited to begin semester 1 and fully dive into my major (moving one step closer to being the badass nerdy research scientist i hope to be whenever i have a good mental health day and stumble upon some interesting piece of cognitive psychology)

i want to join the glee club at my university and get into musical theatre. my high school did not have a glee club so ill be new to this but its an absolute dream of mine to perform again. i do so love to perform, especially if it involves singing. and it has been far too long.

speaking of singing, ive been obsessively listening to walkthemoon, dermot kennedy, and hayley kiyoko (i need the new album. now. please.) recently. throw in a few the 1975 favorites for good measure and you have my recently played. tonight ive also been re-appreciating the beauty of mika’s voice in “happy ending”. that last chorus gives me chills … that note, the little waver in his voice. i. cant.

still, im a bit dry on new music so please recommend stuff to me.

ive booked an appointment to get my hair dyed (finally) and im going for green, blue, and purple so i can finally be a mermaid. let me tell you, i am BEYOND EXCITED. i cannot wait.

now. in other news. ya girl really wants to buy a polaroid so she can take cute pictures but she cant decide if its worth the price (in between getting my hair done and bills). id also dearly like some scented candles for my room so perhaps i should begin with those. it would be lovely to finish reading the brothers karamazov by candlelight before uni starts (fingers crossed on that).

wait. you didnt think i would possibly make a post here without mentioning something about boys, did you?……………………….no, i didnt think so. theres no way i could practice that much self control. but, in a sweet sentence, ill let you know that its been a lovely two months with my boy now and i couldnt be more grateful and in love. truth be told, though, it hasnt been all smooth going. however i think it pretty much comes down to two problems. two problems that we can fix with time and effort. so i still have my hope.

this month is showing me again that beautiful things can and do happen in between everything else.

so. i am looking at the stars.

happy place

in the quest to be content with being alone, an absolute necessity is to find your happy place.

i didnt think id be writing this post. if i was looking for quite a sickeningly positive term, the opposite of the melancholy personality i profess to have and separate from my romanticising of sadness, i couldnt do better. i cringe to type out happy place, even as i cringe at my self absorption. which is why im writing this post, because ive come to the realisation that for me depression is a bit of a revel. A revel in sadness and suicidal thoughts. And its a bit like an addiction. Doesn’t feel great but its easy to get stuck in it.

a happy place grounds you into reality. keeps you there. makes you realise that there’s color in the world if you can only keep your mind at peace for long enough.

my happy place is sitting down in a cool room in front of a computer and pounding my thoughts out, with music blaring in my ears

my happy place is walking in the city streets and feeling the cool air on my skin and a drink in my hand

my happy place is cooking good food and eating it and tidying and cleaning my apartment until its something i can say im proud to have worked for

my happy place is what makes me feel that i could be alone, all alone in the world, and i would be ok. it’s what makes me feel like there is love, wonder, and beauty within me. within my own heart. and thats not all i want. but enough to survive.

these places ground me. they make me know in my heart that im not ready to die. even if this was all there was (and i know its not … oh how i know that theres more for me in store), i dont want to leave. i want to read one more book, drink one more drink, write one more thought, and discover one more thing about myself.

or two. or a hundred

wonder

in june, i started a word doc. it was called “everything i used to love”.

I was feeling wonder slipping from my fingers. It didn’t start in June. It had started long before that and it came in waves, sometimes more intense than before. but it came to a point where i was finding it hard to remember what wonder felt like … to remember if i had ever really held it in my palm.

but i must have. so i wrote that doc, and i finished it three and a half months later. i thought if i could at least remember everything that used to bring me wonder and write it down, maybe i would remember what wonder felt like and maybe id be able to bring it back.

i cant believe that i feel wonder now.

im giddy with the realisation. im giddy with love and life. im giddy with

wonder.

it was a combination of life events and a strength ive found in myself and the healing of time and luck and good health.

i feel like a child again sometimes.

i see wonder in the cool air on my skin.

i see wonder in my own face that i am coming to love. makeup or no makeup.

i see wonder in the colors on my eyeshadow palette and the endless possibilities. i see wonder in turning my face into a canvas and painting it with beautiful colors and shapes.

i see wonder in the comfort of my bed and the warmth of my blanket and the softness of a toy.

i see wonder in the eyes of small laughing children.

i see wonder in pretty dresses. in twinkling christmas lights. in sweet sodas and good home cooked meals.

i see wonder in people’s happiness. i see wonder in walking the city streets. i see wonder in gorgeous music that makes me want to cry. i see wonder in tears.

i see wonder in the people who love me and the people who stand by me.

i see wonder in the eyes of the people i love.

i see wonder in the soft grass and wildflowers that grow there. i see wonder in the cold water and the hot sand of the beach.

i see wonder in greeting strangers. i see wonder in movement. in feeling the wind blow your hair back. in feeling your heart race and pound.

i see wonder in soft kisses. i see wonder in the touch of a hand.

i see wonder in pretty words. in crinkling pages and the smell of books.

i see wonder in faces and bodies in pictures. i see wonder in the kindness of people and i see wonder in the humanness.

i dont just see wonder. i hear it. i feel it. i touch it. i smell it. i taste it.

ive been writing so many posts these past days because im filled with so much excitement that i want to share. my words and ideas move faster than my energy. im filled with so much desire to create and reflect on love and give it through my words. i wonder often if i should schedule posts instead of just pressing publish as soon as i write them. then perhaps we would have consistent and fairly frequent posts throughout the year rather than a spattering of 10 in one month and none for six.

but i love publishing immediately. i suppose because that’s the moment when the words are most true to life. they are most raw and real because this is the moment that i thought them up and this is where i am right now. it wouldn’t be true to life if i published this post two months from now about wonder if i was having a depressive episode then(but fingers crossed).

and mostly im just far too excited and trigger happy to care.

maybe i see it as a case of … what if the world ended tomorrow? Why the fuck would i wait until tomorrow to scream out all the excitement?

i am wonder

WONDER WONDER WONDER

the statistical probability of love

ive heard it said that its rare for two people to meet and become lovers. life partners. rare for two souls to intertwine in love and intimacy. what are the chances? people will say. the stars aligned and destiny and events aligned so that two souls who fit each other could collide and create a beautiful mess

what are the chances, indeed?

quite high, i think.

the truth is that most of us are longing for connection. we’re longing for love. we’re also incredibly drawn to the beauty of other humans. in essence, at any given time, there are a lot of people in close proximity who are all ripe to fall in love

we’re waiting and yearning to hold someone’s hand. to tell them all our secrets. to hear all of theirs too. to kiss someone under the stars. to hold someone in our arms. to have our spirits belong together and with one person alone. to have someone to take care of us. to join us on adventures. to love and be loved.

so its not hard. its not hard for two souls to fall together because we want it. and we have many people from the same generation with some similar ideals and experiences and interests.

and oh, how we want it.

but that’s not to say that the phenomenon of love and unity isnt still magical. it is. i suppose … it makes sense and its statistically probable. that has been my hypothesis this whole post. but statistically probable love is still love. i guess what we can glean from my idea is that – love might not be as elusive as we think. we play a huge part in making things happen.

and i think that we should be pretty hopeful in that knowledge

2017

2017 has been a wild year. I dare say, the wildest year of my 19 years so far, which to be fair, is not saying very much. If I’m lucky and remain healthy, I’ve lived a quarter of my life – which is to say, there are many more potentially and hopefully wild years to come.

Still. Wow. It’s strange. 2017 has passed remarkably slowly and so so much has happened. It amazes me that so much can be packed into a single year. I started 2017 depressed as hell. I was working three days a week and aside from that, more or less, I was grounded. It drove me crazy. I can’t tell you how claustrophobic it felt. One of my greatest fears is a lack of freedom and I felt that lack. Acutely. It made me panic and it felt like walls closing in. I compensated with holding on, working, and waiting for uni. I tend to hate holidays as well. Without the routine and distraction of schoolwork and without seeing my friends everyday, it is easy to fall into depression. Which I did. Hard.

Life gets better. It really does. But not right away. 2017 saw my first year at university and I don’t know what to say about that, even now. While other parts of my life got better, university was rough all year round. I felt like all the socialization I’d done in year 13 had gone out of the window. I was back at square one. I had no idea how to make friends and was too terrified and exhausted to speak to anyone anyway. I can tell you that I made 0 friends from university this year. Maybe 0.5 friends because there is one person who always says hi to me when we pass?

I can tell you that university didn’t exactly help the depression.

But. There’s something to be said for adventures alone. Even if it was isolating, it was also freeing and eye opening and incredible to go on adventures on my own for, really, the first time.in my life. It was fun taking public transport, as strange as that sounds. It was great discovering the freedom of being able to get around on your own and to go everywhere around the city. It was fun discovering what it means to be your own person … to buy what you want, eat and drink what you want, dress how you want, go where you want, hang with who you want. It was freeing to have the option to go or not go to lectures. It was freeing to have the world as my oyster, even if I was too lonely and sad to fully appreciate that. Still. It was nice to know that that was an option.

I moved out. It still amazes me that that really happened. I’ve been dreaming about moving out since as far back as I can remember and to think that it actually happened … when I was 18 like I wanted … I can’t stop marveling in it. I don’t remember to appreciate it nearly as much as I should … that I’ve really achieved this dream of mine. I rent an apartment room in the city. It’s mine and mine alone and it’s cozy and comfortable and cute. And it’s in the city! Tell me that isn’t lovely. I can look out my window and see the city lights up close and I can go anywhere at midnight and I’m on the 13th floor! If that was my only achievement this year, I could even say that I was happy with it.

Academically, uni was fine. I got the grades I expected both semesters, and even better than I’d dared hoped in second semester. I didn’t take advantage of extra help and I ended up simply studying for exams and assignments much of the time rather than truly immersing myself in learning. I found myself too depressed and tired to care about uni unless grades were involved. That makes me sad. But I made it through and next year will be better. Yes, I always tell myself that but that doesn’t mean it won’t really happen.

I suppose if my social life took a dive, at least my love life became existent. A hella lot of flirting, three relationships, and a rollercoaster ride later, I can say that I’ve come out better for the experience. It was beautiful. It was fun. It was eye opening. It was all of them. I can really say that. It was the friendship that I didn’t have platonically … but also love. I fell in love for the first time, and I would venture to say, it was a good thing … if I had to classify 2017 into columns of good and bad … but of course I don’t do things like that. I deal in grey. Always grey. I suppose it was grey. But a pretty grey.

I discovered some of the best music this year. It’s wonderful. Coupled with the amount of public transport I take, I do really need it. I’m in awe with just how good music can be.

I learned to cook. If you can call it that … 75 percent of my food is good or edible. The other 25 percent must be disguised with copious amounts of sweet soy sauce … but I get by. I learned to clean a shower … sort of. Spoiled child that I am, it’s been a process.

I feel like I’ve found my style this year … or at least a good portion of it. I’m dressing in clothes that I really love and wearing colors I want on my face. I’ve learned to do makeup and it’s brilliant. I am in love. I’m trying not to let fear and embarrassment discourage me from looking the way I want and I think I’ve done a pretty decent job of that. Two years ago, I was self conscious about my mascara looking too obvious. Now I WILL wear a bright red dress and I WILL wear green lipstick and I WILL not care that I look like Christmas.

I’ve tried a lot of new things – food, drinks, places, movies, experiences. I’ve taken risks. Social anxiety aside, I’ve made choices and gone for experiences in which my bravery impresses me. I didn’t like some of them, but mostly I loved and breathed everything life has to offer.

Creativity-wise … I suppose 2017 has been a flop. This blog has been one of the only things I’ve been able to keep up. Flute and piano practice have completely gone out the window and I have written …. let’s see. 2 songs? I have progressed backwards on every language I was learning. I wrote 15000 words of a novel. I read more than twenty books but they were mostly for my uni course. I’ve been taking the year slowly. That’s ok. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will probably not have a creative career and that I’ll probably be happier for it. I’m doing and creating what feels right when it feels right because … that feels right for me.

I’ve written a lot of introspective, non fictional content. I’ve had this platform … always there for me when I needed. I’ve written pieces on the things I love, on music that speaks to me, on boys. Ah, boys. Boys. There have been love letters. There have been existential crises. I’ve kept up my instagram accounts and found art there.

I’ve gone through more than one identity crisis. 2017 didn’t help at all. But I feel a lot more clarity now. I am every feeling I feel and every mask I put on. I am all of them. I am dynamic and colorful and a kaleidoscope. That was a discovery.

A lot of friendships have faded. I haven’t forgotten my myriad of posts on loneliness just one to two months ago. Loneliness is real. It may be one of the most real things in my life. But. (There’s always a but) I’m feeling positive about it now. I’m looking up.

I have a friend that I know I can rely on. I have a friend group that is flaky and fragmented but … we do have good times. Sometimes. I’m not sure who my real friends are. But maybe that doesn’t matter so much. Even though there’s a part of my brain that tells me that THATS ALL THAT MATTERS … I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just come to a point where I’ve realised there’s no point in getting upset over it. I’m a little resigned right now to being the third wheel … or fourth or fifth or seventh wheel. To being the one to ask to be invited places. It doesn’t matter. I’ll find happiness where I can. I’ll give love where I can. Maybe people don’t care especially for me. Well maybe I don’t care especially for most people either. We find people that make life bearable and that surround us with noise and fun and maybe … in rare moments of luck … friendship. What is a friend even? Maybe it doesn’t matter. The people I know are enough. Maybe one day I’ll find the place where I belong. Until then, maybe I’ll be a nomad.

I’m obnoxiously giddy with happiness right now. I’m not sure why. Maybe because the year has been good after all. That might be because I’m in a happy mood and am only therefore remembering the positive moments in HD (my psychology classes would say that’s why – see, I didn’t forget everything). But if that was the case, I’m glad it is. I’d rather remember the good because it was pretty darn good. I achieved and learned so much. I’m in a place I want to be now. I’m living where I want. My relationship with my family is better. I have the best friend a girl could ask for and I have lovely people in my life. I’m in a relationship and I have so much hope for it. I’m maybe dangerously happy with my boyfriend and dangerously committed in a dangerously short amount of time. I don’t care. Life is short and I’m one quarter of the way through. 3 quarters of a lifetime is hardly long enough to do everything and discover everywhere and share the infinite love of a bursting heart with another person. I’m going for what I want.

I’m so so excited for next year.

I know that the high will fade eventually and that maybe the low will come in. Sooner or later. But that’s ok too.

Right now, it’s 2017. And I’m alive.

supercut

“In my head I play a supercut of us”

 

It was a moment in time. Such a small fraction of our lives, but it felt like forever. It felt like you’d always been a part of me.

You can look back and see all the memories of us. I loved your exuberance. Your spirit. You were adorable in your excitement. I loved your way with words. I loved your caring heart. I loved all the times we laughed together. I loved all the times you rested your head on me on the bus, and put your arm around my waist, and held my hand, and stroked my hair. I miss the love you’d show me when we woke every morning. All these supercuts. And to know they’ll only ever be that…

 

“In your car, the radio up

We keep trying to talk about us”

 

We kept talking about “us”. First it was, what are we? in detailed careful convoluted conversation. Then we were talking about problems. About ways that you hurt me. About ways I hurt you. About the future. About the past. About the present. About breaking up.

Maybe we talked too much about us for it to work. Maybe that was the sign … that we had so many problems. Talking is good they say. You need to communicate. And I thought it was good. We resolved some arguments. But they would always always come back and become more serious, bigger, and bloodier, every time.

In the end, it was me, always, trying to talk about whether there was an “us” worth fighting for anymore

 

“I’ll be your quiet afternoon crush, be your violent overnight rush, make you crazy over my touch”

 

Maybe it blew me away that I was all three to you. And that’s how I fell in love. Because I wanted so much to be wanted. I wanted to touch someone so tremendously. And I felt so much power from that and the power made me drunk.

 

“In my head, I do everything right”

 

This line hits me every time. I feel like I did so many things wrong. I hurt you so many times. We went too fast. We didn’t do it right. And I always repeat in my head – if I’d done it differently, maybe it’d have worked out. Maybe if we’d been friends first. I didn’t know you felt that much. You would say I was playing with your heart and maybe I did.

And yet I don’t regret our relationship at all. I wouldn’t want to turn back time and erase it and I don’t think you would either. And neither of us could have predicted the future.

Maybe in the end this line is just a wishful thinking … wishing for a world of no pain and a world of perfection. And I know it doesn’t exist.

 

“When you call, I’ll forgive and not fight”

 

I couldn’t forgive you for so many things and there are things and times when it would come back to me and I would be filled with so much anger. But I don’t feel that anger anymore. Maybe I’ve been detached from my feelings now and so it doesn’t matter anymore. But even then, in the throes of it, when I was alone in my room with my thoughts, I’d think: if this were my last day on earth, I want to spend it with the man I love. It doesn’t do to be angry. Forgive. Be the bigger person. Have a bigger heart.

But I wouldn’t really forgive, only on the surface. Underneath, it’d fester. It’d drive me crazy with resentment. And I’d fight, over and over.

It mattered so so little but my heart wasn’t big enough

 

“Ours are the moments I play in the dark, We were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart”

 

I dream about you. Over and over. I can’t seem to stop the dreams. We laugh. We make love. We forgive each other. When I’m alone at night, my mind drifts to you.

We WERE wild and fluorescent and beautiful. I will always have a place for you in my heart.

 

naive orleans

“and I finally found that life goes on without you

my world still turns when you’re not around” – “naive orleans”, anberlin

 

In those many moments when we almost broke up, it felt like the world would be over if I didn’t have him. I imagined a world without him and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t take it. It broke my heart to think of a world of mine where he wasn’t a part of it.

We stayed together because of this desperation. This anxiety at not having him around. But after I realised that I had to end it, and once I gathered up the courage to do it and not look back, I realised that the words of this song are true. Life does go on. It always does, not matter what happens. Life went on after I no longer saw him, no longer spoke to him. I went having adventures with my friends, studying, seeing my family, going on dates. Life went on and I was alright.

 

“come and go now as you please”

 

Once you realise that life goes on after a break up … that there isn’t one person who is crucial to your world – who you couldn’t survive without – then there’s a certain coldness. Because even though it would hurt to have people leave … you know you’ll be okay. You’ll be strong and you’ll learn to have a good time in spite of it. You can enter and leave my life and I’ll still keep on going and I’ll still find happiness.

In a way, it feels heartless and sad to think like that. It feels like a piece of innocence – a piece of sensitivity gone. But in another way, that’s the only way to survive and there’s no use mourning someone who is gone. Better to appreciate and share happiness with those who are still around.