February 2012
9 posts
It is 5:53 in the morning and I’m painting silently with my blanket draped over my shoulders. The floor’s cold, but I don’t want to cause yet another mishap on my bed. I can deal. Another swig from the bottle and I laugh. Not too loudly though, the family will wake.
Family. What is family? Is it the traditional mother, father, and a sibling or two? Or more? Does your definition...
Anonymous asked: what are you stressed about? :(
Stress and anxiety has caused me to scratch open an old scar of mine I thought healed over a couple of years ago. It has found refuge below my navel, off to my right, but to the left of whoever lays eyes on me.
Small open wounds litter the surface; little open pink-red tears leak a clear gold-hued plasma fused with the dark ruby red of blood on darkened brown-red skin. Dead, damaged, permanent....
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I am a person of few words and many thoughts. Whatever is said, there is meaning. My silence does not mean ignorance; it is time spent listening and biding.
Anonymous asked: you have great stuff; so artsy fartsy.
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“Do you ever get that feeling where you don’t want to talk to anybody? You don’t...”
– (via e-skimo)
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It’s four in the morning, almost five.
I’ve been silent for the past week or so, on here and in person. The people I least expected to take my silence as ignorance have branded me as negligent and ungrateful for their existence. I’ve told myself every time it has happened that abandonment is a natural part of life. It’s just how things are. However, the rate at which it...
January 2012
14 posts
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Farm Boy
Death waits for us behind closed doors. It sits patiently for our arrival with a cup of tea or maybe coffee. Maybe with a book. There is no such thing as lateness when it comes to death.
He was a farm boy; skin forever tanned a copper gold. He didn’t have an education. He spent his childhood tending to crops and carrying heavy loads of firewood, water, fertilizer, and so on. He wasn’t...
The night gives rise to my demons.
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For the past twenty-something years, I’ve been on a delusional journey of self-discovery; a journey intended to end with a better sense of self under a positive light: who I am or was, why I behave or behaved so, where I come from, where I am, and where I’m headed. I make vows that promise self-improvement for the greater good and greater awareness of others; being less of a shadow and...
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Grand Central
I’m sitting alone in Grand Central on an old deteriorating wooden bench. I wonder how old it is. How many people have sat here alone like myself or with a friend, a relative, or a lover. I wonder how many of them were confused tourists and how many simply had no home to go back to, no bed to sleep on, and no family to confide in. Were they reading newspapers? Books? Magazines? Or did they...
Fingertips tap away on keys, pause, read over. Add some words, take out others. Delete.
I could’ve written a novel rivaling that of literary classics or an essay lasting for pages. Ticking and tacking on keys, ink dribbling, scribbling and scratching on paper; I could’ve avoided a lot of misfortune if I had used my voice at that given moment instead of my hand when the events become...
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WatchThe cars sped by pretty quickly. They sent vibrations up onto the pedestrian walkway. You see, I have a slight fear of heights, or rather, walking on seemingly faulty grounds that have a chance of giving way if the right amount of weight focuses in on a specific spot. But today, with the gusty winds and the shaky wooden planks bolted together underneath my feet, I feared nothing.
It’s been...
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Dear 2012,
You’re already giving me more shit than 2011.
I really hope this is a test of endurance and character, not a permanent determinant for the entirety of this year.
Anonymous asked: Alright, I've followed you for awhile and I can't help but notice you're negative and only have small rare spikes of positivety here and there. Are you you just never happy like ever? I'm sure there are things out there to be happy about. Little things evem.
Hollow
Many have walked out of my life; closing the door when departing. I never locked the door and cut them out of my life either. I gave them chances. They filled me with a false sense of hope, leaving me sitting by the door eager for their return. And when they do, I deteriorated into a state uselessness and dependency, and crawl to their feet whenever they came back. The damage they inflicted onto...
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December 2011
23 posts
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Anonymous asked: Are you upstate NY or true gritty NYC NY?
People walk in and out of our lives frequently. Some leave after a short amount of time—like footprints in fresh snow or a rare uninterrupted state of solace in the rush of city life—while others leave after an extended amount of time, after unconsciously branding a heart with their name and face.
Stages of pain, rage, and sorrow are inevitable. The ultimate challenge is to gather the...
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Building a wall and blocking out those who care are defense mechanisms I often refer to when my mind is drowning in a thick and heavy fog. Thinking becomes a painful nuisance and gives rise to headaches that make the minutest of noises unbearably irritating. Wanting to be alone, basking in silence, with no interruptions is all I want when I feel this way. Some people care and try to pry their way...
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“Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different...”
– Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha (via shantosophy)
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mindofanalien replied to your post: Bitter
I understand this so much or how they feel like villainizing the person that hurt you is supposed to somehow make you feel better.
YES. I think of it as a “convincing-yourself-that-you’re-really-done-aka-moving-on-faster-though-it’s-not-too-logical” thing. But if it extends to the point where it’s an almost daily (or...
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Bitter
I am entertained by some of the mannerisms that exist within people. To be specific, rejected lovers. I understand that anger and sadness immediately ensues the aftermath of a rejection or a break-up, but I do not think one should immediately place themselves on a pedestal upon the discovery of an ex-significant other finding happiness in someone else.
“You could have done better.”
Why...
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The Veils - Vicious Traditions
I’ve always prided myself in being a listener; chanting an oft-repeated mantra that, in certain situations, what another person needs the most is a simple listening ear, not a mouth to offer a different point of view or biased advice. But lately, it’s been hard to focus, hard to contain myself.
I’ve listened to stories of many: the broken, the addicted, the ones who have given...
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“Every one interprets everything in terms of his own experience. If you say...”
– Aleister Crowley, Diary of a Drug Fiend
It’s been awhile. After months of sleepless nights and endless worries, I finally feel at ease. Partially, slightly, at least. The weight on my chest has taken flight (for now) and my lungs can finally expand rather than deflate another millimeter towards death every time I exhaled. It is an odd feeling, to feel the harnesses encapsulating my heart and brain loosen their binding. It’s...
Liar
i know what you’ve done with whom and when i don’t need to know Why only for you to say that you did instead of Deny
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“It is necessary to find one’s own way in New York. New York City is not...”
– Maeve Brennan (via randomnyc)
I take off my mask when alone and confined within a single room. There is a mirror placed on my desk so I can stare at myself and smile as I take notice of my fragmented reflection. Who am I? Which one is the real me? There’s the me my mother knows, the me my sister knows, the me professors know, the me acquaintances know, the me close friends know, the me strangers think they can know,...
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I am hoping that, with time, the things I worry about and lose sleep over now will only bring me laughs in the future. Bouts of laughter triggered by sheer amusement at my own stupidity and mistakes made as a young adult, for prioritizing things that should’ve been second to what was truly important, and pressuring myself with self-made standards no sane human being would ever force ...
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November 2011
20 posts
Everyone’s face is a blur; there is no such thing as an identity. People walk right passed you and cars speed towards you without any care for your safety and existence. It is okay as long as they can defer punishment.
Perhaps it is a bad thing to secretly enjoy wandering around drunk in a city that forgives and recognizes no one. Everyone is anonymous. It is okay to make a fool out of...
I miss my father. I know, within a few seconds, a few minutes, a few hours, I’ll remember what he did and hate him again. However, the thing I’m certain of is that I hate this ambiguous feeling more than anything else.
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“And it feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling...”
– Michael Scott, The Office