hitori.

How detached can I feel before I break into bits?

Seeing people around you, seeming fine...

As if you never existed...

And all your pitiful whining...

Is just called 'emo' now...

So you're not allowed to cry anymore...

Not when they're looking, anyway...

So hide... hide away...

Speed Bumps

Have you ever woke up in the morning and wish that you hadn't?

------------

Zutto...

I always find it interesting....

I've pushed old thoughts and feelings so deep within myself that I felt nearly dead for a while... or rather, like a newborn. I forced myself to forget about all of my old habits and likings. I did things contradictory to myself to make myself feel as if I were another. But now...

It's painful, really. But almost invigorating. If I listen to the music I once drowned myself in... if I perform tasks I was once so accustomed to... A strange nostalgia rises up from inside my chest. I remember feelings and thoughts long repressed. My brain feels fuzzy, as if a static wave had just disrupted the thought patterns themselves, really.

I remember what it felt like back then, yet it's almost intangible... impossible to reach it. Even though it feels like I've lived at least 10 different lives, I know it has been the same one life, the same old Liz. But I'm still different, in ways of thinking, in ways of learning. Like a weathered path, that's been taken by many. It knows the footprints of others, and how each person walks in a way unlike any other. Every time the road gets tread upon, it loses a characteristic of itself, but gains another in the loss. And even though that characteristic is gone, the road still remembers it. And who knows, maybe the same feet that walked upon it once will walk again, perhaps even wearing different shoes. But the road knows it's only temporary, just as everything else is.

...Sometimes the rising feelings scare me. I feel as though I've advanced so far on the board game. I really don't want to be bumped back to start. But if it happens, there's nothing I can do but move forward again, right? The dice rarely roll the same numbers consecutively. My thoughts are all jumbled... I can't even stay on the same subjects, can I? Heh...

But I've always wondered... If a person who couldn't swim were to fall off a ship in the middle of the ocean, I suppose there would only be two choices of survival.

What kind of person would I be?

The one that is tied to the fact that she can't swim and waits hopelessly for that open hand to plunge into the water and save her?

Or the one that immediately forces her body to learn how to swim and rises to the surface, only to find herself stranded... alone?

----------------------

"I know you shouldn't live for someone else, but... it's just so much better that way, you know?"

Amarte Duele.

I know, I should really be studying for that awfully important astronomy test tomorrow, but I am taking a break right now, only because I really just feel like writing to myself...

I always find it humorous, the way I really do seem bipolar. My loveable asshole friend is right in that sense... he always tells me that I'm either too sad all the time, or too strong-willied and happy to the point that it bothers him, I guess.

But the depressed part of me is always there... it always has been, for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, I remember it not being so intense... but I remember it being there. Every night I felt sad, I would go to my window and look out at the first star I saw and I would wish that someone could come and save me from my loneliness... or from myself. I remember there was even times where I would pray to God that someone would come along to find me, but the only real reason I did that was because my mother used to tell me that God was watching over me and had some sort of plan or some other false bullshit... Later on, of course, I realized that no matter how many years I wished or how many times I sat on my knees with my eyes shut tight and my hands in that closed position, I would never be saved. Of course this was when I lost belief in any type of god, and therefore was an atheist (I am agnostic now.)

Yet this was also the time where I first really felt how sad I could get... the first time I attempted to hurt myself; even to the extent of trying to kill myself. This was all around 6th grade, mind you, and the only grasp I had on the world at the time was through television, movies, books and the way I was treated by those around me...

As I tried to work with this depression, I instantly fell in love (friendship wise) with anyone that was willing to befriend me. I would do anything for said person, and was incredibly loyal. Long story short, no matter how hard I tried, each person would one day leave me abruptly, out of the blue... leave me with only confusion and cruel words. I used to mask my pain with the joke, "I must be cursed." This made me a bitter person, especially after that one friend (who I will never in all of my life forget) left me. I became a cold, angry, broken person... and yet I still lived on to be the person I am today. Of course there is much more to the story, but that's all for another day.

But I recall during all those years, I did see the pattern of the people I befriended, or even became lovers with. The person would initially be completely infatuated with me and after a long time, I would feel like we would be together forever... and yet, they would always grow tired of me and leave. Of course, by logic, I would always come to the conclusion that there was something wrong with the one part of the equation that was always there in each scenario: me. I've tried so long to overcome this, because I know that I've always been myself, and that's all I'll ever be... so people will continue to grow tired of me, I suppose...

Even now... I see these people that have left me... and they seem so much happier without a Liz in their lives. I can't help but cry each time... because I'm never really happier once the person has left, which means I'm the weaker one, generally speaking. ...It even saddens me that to this day, because I still look up at the stars, well-knowing they cannot grant my wishes, and whisper under my breath, "I want to be happy..."

--------------------

The More Loving One

W.H. Auden

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am

Of stars that do not give a damn,

I cannot, now I see them, say

I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky

And feel its total darkness sublime,

Though this might take me a little time.

Bittersweet Symphony

Oh, Irony.

You have such a wicked bite.

It's laughable, really. I've felt this way so many times before. Even to a much worse extremity... and yet, every time it happens, it still feels new. Like a fresh wound in my chest. That same throbbing pain that takes over my entire body, causing my mind to become irrational and clouded... And of course, there is never a cure, no. It's the same as dealing with a cold... you just have to eat chicken soup and wait it out. But of course, I'm a vegetarian, so I can't deal with a cold the same as everyone else... and I suppose that logic works the same with my heart.

And of course...

What better way to end than this?

-----------------------

Why Is The Rose So Pale?

Heinrich Heine

Ah Dearest, canst thou tell me why

The Rose should be so pale?

And why the azure Violet

Should wither in the vale?

And why the Lark should, in the cloud,

So sorrowfully sing?

And why from loveliest balsam-buds

A scent of death should spring?

And why the Sun upon the mead

So chillingly should frown?

And why the Earth should, like a grave,

Be mouldering and brown?

And why is it that I, myself,

So languishing should be?

And why is it, my Heart-of-Hearts,

That thou forsakest me?

[The Heart Nebula]

Rising From The Dead!

It must have been today (as I lie awake in my bed staring at the ceiling, fully aware that I was going to miss school) that I realized I was tired of feeling so shitty, bored, and, frankly, dead all the time. And I don't mean dead in a cool way, where I get to be the subject of a psychobilly song. I mean dead in a I-really-don't-do-anything-I-like-and-time-is-eating-away-each-moment kind of way.

I hate going to some of my classes, because I have no interest in them and no one to talk to for hours while I'm there. But really, in those classes (save one) I feel incredibly bored and useless. And this just makes me think, If I'd rather do something else, then why don't I? So I will. Provided I'm going to finish these classes, of course. But all the while I'll work towards something more my style... I think I'm going to get up the guts to look on craig's list for band members.

Anyway, enough of my boring blather.

If I were more interesting, I'd talk about the last show I went to, or post naked pictures!

...
...
...

I guess I'll just have to comprimise in between.

Oh shit!
A very nervous-looking me next to a very cool-looking Jimmy Calabrese. Haha.

I'll post a better show review later, promise. :'P

Don't look back, you can never look back...

I believe that every single choice you make greatly affects your future.

No matter how small or big the choice is, it offsets the track that you were previously going on. Even the people you meet, or just decide to talk to, could impact what lies ahead. And you can never know what or who is going to be around in the future. Someone you barely talk to now could become your best friend in the future. Another that you trust could stab you in the back and leave without warning. Perhaps you may even fall in love with someone you had once considered an enemy. Everything is based upon the choices you make, the people you see, the way you view things...

With this point across, I sometimes wonder why people who have a similar view make decisions they later feel were 'bad' ones. Even I do, which to me should make no sense. But that's just human nature, isn't it? Giving in to things, even though you know they aren't seen as being kosher. Wanting things that you can't have. Hell, even doing things, hoping to be hurt by them... just to feel alive.

However, this same view makes me cautious of people... I fear making the wrong decision and I second guess the things I do. I take a while to trust people, due to my previous experiences. I don't want to have a relationship with anyone, because I remember how I felt during all my former 'real' relationships... forced to change for someone... empty inside. I would wonder where my real self had gone, and who was the person standing here that had replaced her? This self was a horrid thing... she would just listen to whatever her lover said, and try to never argue. Whenever she disagreed with what the other would say, she would just push it down and swallow. She was afraid of losing what seemed so rare to her... actually having someone there to say, "I love you."

I don't want to become someone I'm not again... and until I can figure things out, I won't. I will just have to remain single and befriend anyone that needs me... but no more.

Although in theory... I wish I could say that I should just go with whatever life throws at me, 'roll with the punches,' and feel that I shouldn't hesitate at all, because life is only lived once... or at least that's all I know so far.... but there's always something in the back of my head, telling me "no!" even though there's a longing in my chest that screams a rhyming, "go!"

And of course, another poem.

---------------------------------


Sonnet 57
William Shakespeare



Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require;
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But like a sad slave stay and think of naught
Save, where you are, how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.

Lack of a common spring...

A lot of the time, I feel like I'm on a separate page from everyone else that's around me. What I failed to realize until now, is that I'm in a whole different book. Everyone has their life on their own track, and each person you meet becomes a part of your book, but they've still got their own damn story and past chapters. Sometimes when I hear someone talking about things that have happened in his or her life, I think that I've really done nothing interesting in mine. I guess it works vica verse though, because there are also the times where I meet someone that's had a completely normal and dull life and I think to myself that I must be the strangest person on the planet. But in each instance, everyone has their own book and even they don't know what lies on the pages ahead.

The other day I told someone that I'm naturally drawn to tragedy. I'm wondering if this magnetic charge draws tragedy to me as well. For each person I seem to befriend has (or had) a vast amount of emotional, mental, or societal problems. I know that nearly everyone has a set of problems, but some are worse than others. It doesn't matter to me, because I'll accept anyone that needs a friend, and I'll help them out as much as I can. Although in doing this, I have caused myself far more pain that I'd ever expected to experience. But my heart feels it's alright in the end, as long as I'm able to help someone feel good.

I want to be able to laugh at those pages that are ahead of me. Whether it's good or not, I'm definitely a page-turner; I can read a lot. I don't want to be someone that puts the book down when they arrive at a boring chapter... 'cause there's always got to be something better ahead, right? Just depends on the protagonist. :')

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And now I leave you with another poem I think about quite often.

Alone
Edgar Allen Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

...and miles to go before I sleep.

It's strange.

I've noticed that the only time I really feel horribly depressed is when I know I'm going to be by myself for a while. If someone says they have to go, or if I'm sitting in my room, I feel that familiar pain in my chest. I don't like this feeling... I can never describe it quite right, either. It's an odd mixture of smiles and frowns, bouncing around insanely like molecules in a mircowave. Said feeling drives me to move around and be busy. I often find myself taking walks in no particular direction, day or night, in attempt to rid myself of this feeling. I only started doing this over a year ago, but it felt good whenever I did. I always wanted to find someone, or meet someone to gain company, but at the same time I didn't talk to anyone I saw and dreaded for them to talk to me. I suppose I'm a very confusing person in this aspect... that I can never understand what I want. I assume that's also why others tend to become easily frustrated with me. Hmm... Well, until I figure it out, I guess I'll just have to keep wandering the planet, meeting new people and doing new things. Hopefully I'll gain some sort of decisiveness in the end, haha.



Now I'll leave you with a poem I've had stuck in my head since the eighth grade.


♥♥♥


Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These...

Today I watched a film titled Life As A House.

My mother had ordered it from Netflix and reccomended that I watch it in my free time. I had originally wanted to see it because of my fondness of Hayden Christensen (come on now, I'm a Star Wars freak and Anakin's my favourite character), but I'm really glad I watched it anyway, because it was a beautiful moving film that gave an awful rush of nostalgia. The character that Christensen plays reminded me immediately of myself... in the movie, his character, Sam, is 16. I recently found a blog I used to write in when I was the same age... it was incredibly depressing. Although I consider myself to be rather sad nowadays, back then it was far worse... I remember hating everyone and everything. The one person I hated most by far, was myself. There is a quote in the movie, where Sam says, "I'm nothing." And that is exactly how I felt. Like I was nothing, and yet I wanted so badly to be loved. I would fight with my parents non-stop, telling them that I hated them and that I wished they would die. I would hurt those that actually did try to help me... In an irony, I wanted to be saved, but would always reject the life boat. I can't even begin to describe that sick, raw emotion I felt every single day...

What's funny to me, is that when I gave my mom the DVD back, she said, "the teenager in it reminds me of you. I want you to know that things can always get better." And I cried. It's strange... I've always felt so alone and unwanted... all of my life. But the past few years have been better... even though my heart's been dragged across the floor... even though I've been tossed here and there... for some reason, there's a feeling in my heart that's new to me. A feeling like I don't want to give up. Life is tough, but I have to keep going to find what makes it worth the struggle. I have to keep making people smile, because in reality, you have to be the change you want to see in the world. I know that my heart will always have that constant ache... the one that's always been there for as long as I can remember... but at least the ache subsides when I see my friends smile. Because I smile with them. And I'll always look forward to those days, even if my day's gone to waste.

"How do you become something you're not?"
"What do you want to become?"
"What I'm not."
"What are you now?"
"I'm nothing. "