an idea.

i have heard this spiel too many times. i listened as you first strung the words together. i watched as you realized it all coming together. even in the moment i couldnt overlook the importance of it. i could see it reflected in your eyes. you have to love the person more than you love the idea. i cant reiterate your thoughts. i could probably recite your words verbatim. but it wouldnt be the same. your words are so much more beautiful. your ideas are so much more beautiful. your passion is so much more beautiful. youre so much more beautiful. so im not going to try.

instead these are my thoughts, as long-winded as they may be, on the things you've said so many times.

sometimes you get so caught up in the idea. you get so immersed in the principle of it all. you lose yourself. you lose the beauty you saw in yourself. so then whats the point in it? if it doesnt make you see the beauty in the world, in yourself. drop it. thats it. be bigger than the idea. why believe something that makes you feel ugly, that makes the world seem ugly? doesn't that defeat the purpose of believing in something?

sometimes you get so caught up in the idea. you get so immersed in the principle of it all. you lose the people you love. you lose the beauty you saw in those people. so then whats the point in it? if it doesnt let you see the beauty in the world, in other people. drop it. thats it. people are bigger than ideas. why believe something that makes you feel like theyre ugly, that makes the world seem ugly? doesnt that defeat the purpose of believing in something?

so dont get so caught up in the idea. get immersed in the love for it all. dont lose anything. dont lose the beauty you saw in anything. thats the point. let yourself see the beauty in the world, in everyone. drop the idea. thats it. love people because theyre alive, because theyre life, not because of their ideas. so dont believe something that makes you feel like people are ugly, that makes the world seem ugly.

the purpose of believing in something is to be able to appreciate the beauty in life. even if someone doesnt agree with what you believe, their belief helps them see the beauty in the world. isnt that, arent they, arent you more important than either of your ideals?

i think so.

but then again, this is all still just an idea.

fuck.

im fucked up. i am a fucked up version of her. i was her last semester, last summer. and every word shes saying. i see myself in. the branches look like veins. i said that to you a week ago. i did. the branches arching upwards, as if theyre trying to scrape the sky. their source of life flows from the roots up to the bark on the tips of their branches. so so many feet above the ground. the veins and the arteries carrying deoxygenated and oxygenated blood. our source of life. from the tips of our toes and back to our worn and tattered hearts. i said that to you. in so many words. its like a life force or something. she says. in so many words. and you say how you like that idea.

and i listen to every word.

why am i even fucking listening anymore?

and im too fucked up to fix it.

why am i even fucking trying anymore?

dialogue.

...

(sorry if this wasn't what you wanted for a story with only dialogue. but silence is all encompassing. and thats how i felt.)

in defense of beauty.

the world is beautiful, people are beautiful, and what we've done is beautiful. he probably get tired of hearing me say these things i think as i sit with my coffee blowing smoke into the wind. hes not really in the same place. but you never did. youre the only person i know that really fathomed the idea. youre where i got it from after all. but i cant even say these things around you anymore. i distract myself, look away, recite lyrics in my head, relish in the sound of laughter nearby, and resolve to study the branches in a nearby tree. theyre beautiful. beauty of that sort is the only thing i can think of when im around you. if i dont, ill lose faith. the notion that things will be ok. its not because of you though, you and the world are beautiful. i could never doubt that, i have too much faith and care way too much about everything around me. its beautiful in it's bitter and unrelenting ways. and theyre just as important, as pertinent, as it's more agreeable features.
i dont really know how to defend the beauty of the world. the only thing i know is the way the branches in monroe park reach into the sky, the sound of quivering guitar strings, and crys of words still entwined with lingering sentiment, the brightness of the sun foiled only by the shade created by imposing buildings, the unbridled gusts of wind that make it impossible to finish a page in my book. these things couldnt be more pure and honest. more beautiful.
things dont have to be life changing or even relevant to remind me that life is beautiful. life reminds me of that by just being. even if sometimes that doesnt make any difference.

im fine.

sometimes you think youre going to be fine.
life kicks you in the balls.
and you say well this is a new experience and at least i still have balls.
then something reminds you that youre not fine.
it fucking hurts.

social networking is the devil

so we were supposed to give up some sort of technology for a day. well honestly the only thing that would be tremendously difficult to give up for a day would be my phone. and i like being able to meet up with people. so i gave up social networking for as long as i felt was necessary. and officially i made it three days.
i say officially because i made it through most of today, er sunday, however me and my good friend went to philly yesterday and i just had to post the pictures for him. and i caved. but i made it thursday-saturday anyway. :) honestly, it was just really fucking nice. the thing about social networking is that, regardless of its positive aspects, you end up wasting copious amounts of time just sitting at the computer. which is something i hate that i do. the outdoors is my favorite place to be, and talking to people is just about as effective as any drug one could take in regards to making you feel a certain way. something thats really diluted on the internet. people really are the most beautiful thing in this world. this world really is quite beautiful.
one really big bonus of doing this was i had some shit happen to me on friday. and instead of dwelling on the issue and ranting away my problems on xanga (yes, i am twelve and i still use my xanga. shut up.) i spent the time cleaning my room, doing laundry, and having two really wonderful conversations. one with someone i hadn't talked to in forever and another with a guy i had only met once before when he was sitting outside johnson in a bathrobe. not only that, but i had time to just think about things. and so instead of materializing sour memories into a quote unquote tangible record of events, i ended up cementing myself in a really optimistic frame of mind.
its not like im going to give up my facebook, tumblr, xanga, twitter, and stumbleupon from now on. but i feel like it will be nice for it not to be something i absentmindedly waste time on and automatically reach for. plus the weather is soon to be nice! so ill see everyone outside far from their computers in the coming days!

joy of cooking

chocolate cups filled with love and sugar. waiting to be compiled: solely by my hands and a wire contraption twisted into being for this very purpose. this is my favorite thing. if i were a housewife or a mother i would be the epitome of every misogynistic joke. never to leave my sanctuary of food preparation.

i smile at the assortment of ingredients organized into an orderly line. waiting for me to transform them into something completely different. they've never cooperated on this with me before today. but it's a new day, and i'm owed a success, in light of recent anatomical failures. (the class, not my body.) i think how i should drop out and become a baker. i would give away anything i made till i had nothing. you can't be bitter about sweets after all. perhaps that's not a smart idea.

but anyway. cake is my nemesis. pie, cookies, brownies, blondies, tarts, crisps, shortbread, even cheesecake. but any attempt i've made at cake, hasn't even come close to resembling what you would bring to a birthday party. today was different. and after a superfluously messy assimilation of ingredients, and seventeen minutes of dull anticipation. i reach into the oven to take out six perfectly risen, moist, cups of spongy chocolate love. i have no idea what i did differently. to be honest the recipe wasn't even too meticulously followed.
but something agreed with me.

and after the past few days of feeling like i don't really know anything. it's nice to know i can bake a cake.

variance.

i'm going to start this off in the way you're never supposed to start off anything. i don't want to write this.
whatever.

variance

you were worried about me, worried about yourself worrying about me. i can tell you're scared of the latter. i feel a hatred for the things that could keep me alive. and the things i feel like i need could kill me. you should be worried, be scared. i keep repeating i'm sorry. you say not to be. but how's that possible? i feel alone. but less empty than i had. i saw this coming. "i understand if you don't want to do this anymore. you can leave i understand" i remember thinking before. i just want you to be happy. i want to change, to make you happy. even if the grief isn't my fault. isn't intentional. i can't try to convince you to do something you don't want to do anymore, i tell you this. but i try anyway. believe me. (please?) i tell you i can change. (can i change?) (i can change.) and i'm crying.

you confused me with someone else. you can be convinced. i'm not her. if i believe i can change, than you believe i can change. i'm still who i am if i'm not doing this. i can still do what i'm doing if i'm not doing this. i can't be afraid of failure. challenges are successes no matter if i fail. everything has to be internalized. (it's hard to reprogram your thoughts.) i didn't take you seriously. i did. i stopped. that hurt. (why wouldn't it?) (i wish i hadn't been so weak.) you believed me. you see signs it was a facade. (there i go again, fuck.) you interject, upset. was it just a masquerade? (fuck.) you don't want to make me feel like shit. (again.) (it's not your fault.) (it's my fault.) and you stop. you look for signs i'm lying. not sure if i doth protest too much. or if it hurts, low expectations. you trust me. (i hope).

(you do.)

(i hope you were right to)

end

i'm glad i wrote this.

it will end in tears

what am i supposed to do when everything is deteriorating at once?



its subtle.

but im scared.
but i still feel alive.