Monkey Hat

So I bought this hat a couple weeks ago... it makes me happy.

I got it at Hot Topic.

Teehee!

Something's Missing

"I'm not alone. I wish I was. Cause then I'd know I was down because I couldn't find a friend around to love me like they do right now... I can't be sure that this state of mind is not of my own design. I wish there was an over the counter test for loneliness, for loneliness like this... Something's missing, and I don't know how to fix it. Something's missing, and I don't know what it is." - Something's Missing by John Mayer

I've come to the conclusion that when I'm lonely, I always want to be more lonely in a roundabout way.

I want to just... leave. Instead of working at my loneliness, I give up. I pack my things and leave for a while.

I guess that's just how I work... I can't NOT be doing something. Going somewhere. Meeting someone. Always running.

When I stop for a moment, breathe it all in... it's good... but only for a moment. Then I think. I start to see how I can't control it... how it never pans out quite like I planned.

And then, loneliness kicks in.

I see the people around me... and I feel like something's missing.

Something's always missing.

Someone's always missing.

So to counter-act it, I run farther.

And farther...

And farther...

Until I'm so far away... that there's no one and nothing left.

Just me and somewhere I've never been, something I've never done.

Because really, that's all that makes me happy, now.

No emotional attachments... that only hurts.

Instead, I'm running. Breathing in and out. It hurts in a way as well... But my heart feels good, pounding there in my chest. It's not breaking, it's stretching. It's building itself up.

That is love.

And how can I be lonely when I feel that kind of love?

How can I be lonely when I'm always running somewhere new?

I can't be.

And yet... I am more alone than ever before.

"Now that I have found someone, I'm feeling more alone than I ever have before." - Brick by Ben Folds

25

Wow...

As of today, I have been to 25 concerts.

This does not include seeing Paul Delay twice, however...

I don't know why...

Maybe it's because he was free.

Oh my...

I also saw Bruce Cockburn... and Dan Hicks. Wow.

29, then.

Though I'm not sure if the first Paul Delay concert counts as I can barely remember it... I was very young, maybe 8. He was playing at the state fair once, and my family and I ate dinner on a blanket in the grass in front of the stage.

I suppose I should add those to my list.

Anyway, the point is that I've started a new blog to store my memories of all of these concerts in.

It's called PDX & Muses.

You'll find it here.

Made in Oregon.

Yes. :)

Sammich(es) and Heartbreak(er)

For the record, the title holds no meaning to this post. They were just the first two words that popped into my head before I started to write.



... Hmm... maybe they do hold meaning... randomosity. That's kind of what this post is all about.


I recently had three separate people tell me I'm ditzy.


Weird.


I never knew!


But I think that's because my description of ditzy = stupid girl.


The people who told me I'm ditzy say otherwise. They say ditzy = something like spontaneous and insane.

THAT. I am.


So, I guess I can live with that one.


Also, I have come to fully appreciate backrubs and those who give them. If you're reading this, you know who you are and that I love you dearly.

Random fact: I threw up a lot this morning. Yippee... not.


I am not happy about being sick. Not happy at all.

I really wish one of those back rubbing people were here... my back does not take kindly to kneeling in front of a toilet, retching, for nearly three hours.


But that's what moms are for, I suppose.

And I love my mom.


She's making a delicious chicken bake casserole with rice for dinner. Thankfully, I haven't throw up since 8:38am. THEREFORE! I shall be participating in this glorious meal.


Yay.


I guess that's really all I have to say for the moment...


Maybe later I'll write about a few memorable concerts I've been to...

Hmm...


Or maybe I'll start a new blog... A post for each concert I attend. YES. I shall.

Let's see...

I think I've been to something like 17 rock concerts now...


I like this idea.


:)

We are the Hell we are most afraid of and the worst thought we can think of.

Here's a monologue I wrote a while back... I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking about when I wrote it... All I know is that I'm glad I don't think like this anymore.Warning: it's dark. And depressing. Sorry.

__________________________________________________________

Never knew what I was supposed to be, don’t even know what I want to be. I guess I’m just not beautiful. Nothing I said came out like I wanted. Nothing I found funny was laughed at. I didn’t want everyone to stare. I just wanted to fit in. I only wanted you to smile. Like that little child… shaking their heads back and forth, and waving from the wrist. Does it impress you? Will you tell me I’m beautiful? Will you say you love me? Why do I need you to say things that you don’t really understand? What is it about me that got ripped off? Is it my mind? Is it my heart? Is it my hands? Is it my soul? Maybe when He made me, something cracked in the mould. Maybe the design was eaten by mold. I don’t have the answers. All I know is that something’s wrong. Something’s missing. Something never fit, and I don’t know what or why.

And even if it was wrong, why can’t you just tell me why? Why can’t you tell me what I’m doing wrong? Why do I always ask why? I’m still that child. I’m still that little child.  I can’t come to grips with the way you react. I still don’t understand why you got so mad. I don’t know why I can’t stop being sad. I don’t know why I can’t stop this bitter resentment from growing. I can’t stop being depressed. How did I end up so depressed? I think I’m starting to lose my laughing heart.

I’m turning into something I hated when I didn’t know what hate was.

People told me I was fun to be around… What happened? I know. I gave in. You didn’t see it, but I gave in. I caved in. I was tired of being hurt. I was tired of being left alone. I was tired of running away because I couldn’t bear to see your face so fallen, so disappointed in me.  Cause when I tried to make the world go away so I could understand, no one came to hold my hand. I was left alone. Why didn’t you reach out to me? When I was trying so hard to reach you?

 It’s been too long… too many years spent alone. I’ve tried my best, but it’s never enough. It’s never enough to be the best I am. It’s always about the best I can. But if I’m doing it, isn’t it what I can do? Other than that, what do you want? How do I make you smile? How do I fit in? Or maybe the question is how do I break the mould? Maybe I wasn’t supposed to conform to everything you wanted. But that’s not right, right?

All eyes on me… cause I need to be what you want me to be.  I need to be what you want just so I can be loved. I need to be what you want just so you’ll smile. I need it. I need you.  Then again, I’ll be gone any day now… I won’t change you. I won’t change anyone. I won’t change anything. If I’d never been here, you wouldn’t have felt anything about me, you wouldn’t have been any different. If I die, I would leave nothing behind but empty thoughts and broken pieces of my heart.  Stolen fragments of a broken mind. Shattered flames of a burning soul.

What’s the use in trading shoes? Shouldn’t we trade souls? Shouldn’t we trade consciences? I know those torture me more than anything physical ever could. I can’t go a day without remembering the horrible things I’ve done, or without cursing my own soul. Cause God, I know I deserve to burn in Hell. But hell, maybe this is Hell. It sure isn’t Heaven. Or maybe it’s Heaven for someone out there. Someone I’ve never known, never touched, never seen. But it’s a Hell for me. It’s a prison for me. It’s a cage with burning bars of diamond. Beautiful, but breaking. They won’t break, but they broke me. And now they eat at my burning soul, turning it into an empty pain. A pain that doesn’t exist for anyone but me.

Maybe they’ll use the ashes of my soul…? Maybe they’ll turn them into coal…? Maybe they’ll force me closer to myself…? And turn me into diamond bars for the next tortured soul…? Am I just a punished soul waiting for my turn to punish another? Am I just here for the prison bars? Is that why you never laughed? Is that why I can’t fit in? Maybe I’m made to sin…? What a wicked existence. What a hell. What a terrifying thought. But then again, so am I.