It's all by chance

Isn't it crazy to think, why am I here? The idea that the only reason why I exist is because in 1039AD in some  northern area we call Scotland a man named _____ wanted to have sex with his wife _____ at precisely 3:05pm in the afternoon. If "that event" hadn't occurred, their child wouldn't have occurred, and thus my relatives and myself wouldn't have occured. If ____ man in "Scotland" had decided to use his sexually drive that day on his mistress instead of his wife, or whomever, than maybe this world would have never seen George Washington, Marie Antoinette, Stalin, Hilter, etc. Is life really this random? If my mom hadn't decided to take ___ class at George Mason University she would never had met _____ who introduced her to my Dad. So much randomness. Sometimes I have to just sit back and think, wow, how crazy and insane is it that I actually even exist!? It's wild. It's incomprehensible! If groups of warriors didn't raid towns and rape villages, so many of us would not be here. So much violence, but also happiness, is the reason we exist. The entire world, the entire situation we see around us is all by chance. Maybe nothing was meant to be, maybe we're all here by random, and if so should we consider ourselves lucky?

Tell me what you know about them night terrors every night

i live in a constant dream state. numb out and dissociate with real life. watch through a hazy veil. nothing ever close enough to hurt me too bad. a false sense of security that if it ever gets too bad i can just wake up and it'll all be a fading memory.

but now i have trouble realizing what is and isnt a dream. i can't shake the dreams and the dreams creep into life. things happen and i dont know if it was dream me or real me or if theres even really that much of a difference. nothing is really a concrete memory, just fast fading little flashes. the story lines never quite add up and i'm not sure how i arrive to different settings. things seem close to reality but just a little bit off, a little bit too fantastic, a little bit too plastic, a little bit static. my emotions catapult as i hurtle through different stages of dreams.

the dreams are all turning into nightmares. i cant wake up so im getting pushed deeper and deeper into the depths of my subconscious and the darkness that lies there. my intentions have never been clearer to me. my hints i didnt even know i was giving are becoming obvious. every time i realizes its too big to be real and wake up im just in another nightmare. they always start innocuous but then slowly they twist to terror. they slip in and out as they get to be too much. i never know how i end up places.

death by hangover

lying in my bed perusing chinese food menus because the thought of walking all the way to seaco for brunch is not at all appealing to me right now. i have become a full blown cliche.

lovesickness- the overwhelming feeling of longing you get when you find someone you want to know absolutely everything about. that obsessive want to be around someone. that tingly pang right in your heart. that stab of excitement and fear when you see the back of a head from afar or a similar hoodie. hurts, but in a good way.

Despite so many good things happening this week... I just find myself upset. For the first time in five years my step sister has actually said she wants to work on our relationship and try and start anew. But even with good news like my parents moving to their dream house, I find myself almost suffocating with different emotions I don't understand.

I feel like a robot... every day, every week, the same. school, work, class, work, school, etc. Although I do so much for so many people, especially in my position of a club-president, I feel like I'm the one that's the most judged.  People are becoming exhausting.  My friends at school see me as a leader, the go-to person, the one with the ideas. They look at me for help and advice, but when it's my turn for help, I rarely get it.  Sisters tell me what to do and don't' give me the time of day to explain myself. Sometimes I just want positive feedback, to be told "good job!" but I'm usually judge. I'm judge for who I like, who I defend, what I'm studying, what I'm doing this summer.

Isn't it easier to drop judgement? Take away grudges and forgive? We are all people who deserve to be respected, loved, and befriend. Sometimes being the loud one, the decision maker, makes you forgotten. I want to go back to the days when I had very few friends... in lots of ways that's a lot easier to handle.

I'm on a boat

Sure, I have morals, I swear.
Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I'll start to believe it.

Sure, he might break up with his girlfriend.
But of that, I choose to remain skeptical.

This sucks.

On the bright side, I'm writing this while lying in the inflatable boat that resides in my dorm room. How many people can say that? I'll tell you: not many. That's what will get me through this. Every time I see them together, I'll think to myself, "Well, she might have him but I have a boat".

Is it bad that as soon as I wrote that I decided that the next time I make out with him I want it to be in the boat?

There will be no next time there will be no next time there will be no next time there will be no next time there will be no next time.

Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I'll start to believe it.

the monster was happy when they made him a maze

i am so unbelievably privileged. and i never really realize just how much so until little things hit me and i realize... not everyone can be sitting in their $5000 dorm apartment at a great school in a major city receiving mail with checks and good natured gifts from their mother theyve treated like shit for the past four years, drinking coffee paid for by their parents, stoned from weed paid for by their parents, after getting out of a class paid for by their parents, emailing their parents about a trip to italy and blogging about shit on their macbook with ray bans sitting in view, and only worrying how to respond to an awkward facebook message from a boy they kissed once and will probably only see three more times in their entire life and how hard theyre crushing for their new friend/drug dealer.

like who the fuck gets to do that on a daily basis. shouldnt i be worried about real things? shouldnt i be worried about paying my bills? getting to my job on time? wondering if the shitty school im going to because it was all i could pay for will actually land me a job in this economy? how did i get so lucky that my biggest concern is boys?

i'm so lucky. and i never just sit an appreciate my life. i never appreciate how much ive had handed to me. that i have time to be aware of random tid bits of information because i never have that much to do that i cant just look at things. that i'm never really screwed, despite how hard i sometimes try to get that way. i was just born into a life where overall, more good things than bad have kept happening that i'm always ok.

there are so many people who deserve to be lucky. why me?

About Love

I am head over heels in love and now I know why. The reason was there all along, it has been for years, but somehow I didn’t appreciate it for what it was until now. For as long as remember, I have been a closeted hopeless romantic. I guess the reason I’ve never felt anxious about what I’m going to do with my life after school is because I have always seen a job as second to what I am really meant to do in life; love someone and be with them until I die. It sounds a little cliché, a little too of the idealized prince charming sort of situation, but only if you think solely about romantic love. What I have come to realize however is that true romances aren’t based on romantic love, their foundations are of platonic love. Platonic love is underrated. There are so many people in our lives we feel platonic love for, but somehow it becomes taboo to express it too often, as if it is a sign of weakness to tell someone you love them platonically except for on certain special occasions. But in reality, platonic love is a ground-shaking, soul-altering phenomenon of the purest love imaginable. Perhaps the fact that it is hidden most of the time gives it the ability to bring tears to the eyes of friends and family when we verbally express our platonic love. The best relationships are founded on platonic love. Before I started dating my boyfriend, we were friends. And though it has taken a while for us to say those three words, “I love you,” I realized that I have loved him for years. And that love hasn’t changed. Platonic love doesn’t give way to romantic love; it just enhances it even more. Sometimes it amazes that one person can feel so many types of love at once without their heart bursting with sheer bliss. It makes me wonder, what would this world be like if everyone was more open about loving each other in all ways possible? Tomorrow I am going to tell someone I love them, really love them. I don’t know yet who it will be. But when I tell them, it’s not for an occasion, not for a reason. Love needs no reason, it is reason enough.

The First Night

The First Night,


By Billy Collins.

The worst thing about death must be
          the first night.
                    —Juan Ramón Jiménez

Before I opened you, Jiménez,
it never occurred to me that day and night
would continue to circle each other in the ring of death,

but now you have me wondering
if there will also be a sun and a moon
and will the dead gather to watch them rise and set

then repair, each soul alone,
to some ghastly equivalent of a bed.
Or will the first night be the only night,

a darkness for which we have no other name?
How feeble our vocabulary in the face of death,
How impossible to write it down.

This is where language will stop,
the horse we have ridden all our lives
rearing up at the edge of a dizzying cliff.

The word that was in the beginning
and the word that was made flesh—
those and all the other words will cease.

Even now, reading you on this trellised porch,
how can I describe a sun that will shine after death?
But it is enough to frighten me

into paying more attention to the world’s day-moon,
to sunlight bright on water
or fragmented in a grove of trees,

and to look more closely here at these small leaves,
these sentinel thorns,
whose employment it is to guard the rose