Pressure

Being trapped in a fucking superficial choke hold

You say I look pretty, but I don’t feel better not enlightened, nothing like the eight-fold

Can one be seen for more than the shape of their nose?

Probably not how could I even suppose

We claim to be changing the way we think, as a whole, as a society

Definitely not because the way we look still gives people panic attacks, anxiety.

Trying to express yourself, or make a statement resulting in getting called a slut

Looking to get called a prude, insecure, or just plain unattractive if you don’t walk around confidently, if you don’t strut

How could I believe in people acting better?

“Why the hell are you going out wearing that sweater?”

Beauty standards driving me mad

Get me out of here, I want to leave, will I look back and this will be all that I had?

Definition of you and me

What color are your nails? How much were your jeans? Did you get a degree?

Adjourn these standards, adjourn this rhyme scheme, adjourn society!!

photo credit: pinterest

why i love the sun(sets) in california

when I go to the beach or sit in my backyard, i like to have moments to myself where i am able to reflect on my decisions (past and future ones) while i look at the sun setting. 

the sun has always drawn me (even though i hate the heat). i’m not sure why either. maybe it’s because i was born in arizona and raised in california but that has always been a question in the back of my head.

there is a point in the day where the sun becomes vulnerable. as the heat begins to die down and the night chill takes over, the sun is at its weakest and i am infatuated with that moment. when this key element for human survival is powerless, i am able to become emotionally naked. Together, the sun and I are parallels as we expose ourselves.

while i sit on the sand or on the grass and look up at the painted sky, i ask myself these simply put but complex questions: am i happy? and if so, why or why not?

Lately, i have been happy for a plethora of reasons. And today, the sun has made me think of the people who raised me. the sun has made me reflect on my mother who has taught me graciousness and the fundamentals of being a strong woman as well as my father, who installed creativity and imagination into my thought process at a young age.

so tonight, as i look into the golden sky, i thank the sun for keeping me humble and letting me pour my heart out when it and me are completely bare.

photo credit: treehugger.com

iffy // certain

Sometimes I can’t tell if the fact that we as a human species are minuscule is terrifying, or comforting.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever figure out what I want out of this world or what this world wants out of me.

Sometimes I wonder if people think about me when I’m no longer in their lives or when I’m away.

Sometimes I think that when the floors creak, along with my head too I’m rotting.

Sometimes I feel responsible for the happiness of others.

Sometimes I get moody for absolutely no reason other that the mere reason that, I can.

Sometimes I paint people yellow, orange, pink, or purple, who are beige or even grey. (I do this especially often)

Sometimes I say things that don’t match up with what I think, because I act on impulse.

Sometimes I don’t know what I want and often times at that.

Most times I get exceptionally overwhelmed when I haven’t updated my playlists, or I’ve been listening to the same music for too long (approximately two weeks).

Most times I get bored of movies, people, places, classes, colors, clothes, crayons, writings, news, pens, and everything in between.

Most times I go home and go straight to my room instead of stopping in the living room, the kitchen, or any other room.

Most times I crack my neck the way the chiropractor tells me not to.

Most times I push people away simply because I can.

But all the time, I figure it out.

All the time I get myself through even if it feels like the whole entire world is against me.

Not for a minute do I believe that I can’t do it.

Not for a minute do I not work to be better than the expectations put on me, then the standards, then the history.

All the time I believe and stand with me and to all my sisters, I believe and stand with you too.

photo credit: pinterest,com

The Outside Ghost

In the past few years, I’ve developed a love for the outdoors that is indescribable, I live for the moments I spend in the backcountry. I yearn to lounge on my hammock, strung between two awkward trees, uneasy about my weight. I dream of not getting back into the vans, of staying near the spot where I dug my favorite latrine. But I have to say one of my favorite things about the outdoors is the chilling experiences.
The first one very vivid to me occurred nearly three years ago in the Eastern Sierras. I had gone backpacking with my school about 10 miles up into Little Lakes Valley, a quaint spot along the John Muir Trail, and we had set our packs down by a lake snuggled into a cliffside. A few of us, being the adventurous souls that we were, decided it would be fun to summit this peak, towering around 1,000 feet above us.  Half an hour into the climb, I had to stop, at our elevation, nearly 13,000 feet above sea level, wearing a heavy ski coat, I was winded. I was given a walkie talkie, water bottles to hold onto, and told to standby as they submitted.
Being on a neighboring peak, just slightly lower than the peak I originally set out for, I had a nice view of the three that continued on. As I sat alone, talking and singing to myself, using up 30 minutes of footage on my phone, I felt a sense of tranquility I hadn’t experienced since starting high school. Around 15 minutes into my time alone, as I carefully examined the pockets of snow that lay in the distance between the jagged rocks that covered the mountain where I would occasionally see the hikers jumping through as the continued to summit, something interrupted by solo jam sesh. In the footage, you can hear me rambling about a second rate animated movie from my childhood, and all of a sudden a voice maybe 40 feet behind me interrupts my train of thought. I hear the click of a walkie talkie as the gruff voice says, “OK hold up.” However, the walkie talkie sitting beside me remains silent.
Now at this point, two things are running through my mind, either there is a stranger hiking by his lonesome and he’s for some reason communicating with another hiker far another away where he needs a walkie talkie, or that there’s a ghost. Seeing as I have turned to face the source of the noise and there was no face to put to the voice, I quickly jumped to conclusions that it was the latter. Regardless, as my experience from horror movies dictates, if I acknowledge the ghost as a ghost, it will mess me up. So I narrate to the video what just happened, and QUICKLY change the subject so that the ghost believes I am just a naive little freshman, not worth the trouble. I increase the amount of panning shots in my video so I have opportunities to look around for the voice that is intermittently speaking, traveling, but maintaining a consistent distance from me so that I can keep an eye out for the ghost without it catching on.
A few minutes later the voice disappears completely, but as it does the weather takes a turn, I see the hikers running back as they indubitably saw the storm cloud moving in our direction, completely invisible to myself until the hikers were almost back. Now I’m not saying that the ghost made it dump snow on us for the next 12 hours, but if he did that was a pretty crappy move. Regardless, when we get back to camp I refrain from telling anyone because I am convinced I’m still within earshot of that petty man, so I go about the rest of the evening and kind of forget about it. When I wake up in the morning, sore from the number of times the gusting winds slapped the roof of the tent into my unsuspecting face, I hear stories that convince me that the ghost man didn’t like our group.
One tells of how he heard trailing footsteps when he went off to pee shortly after dinner but saw nothing, no indication that he was being followed. And the three girls all corroborated that in the night, in the worst part of the storm, when the howling winds would’ve prevented any sane man from leaving his tent, no matter what capacity his bladder was at, they heard footsteps circling their tent, unaffected by the storm, oblivious to the bitter cold, definitely a ghost. When we hiked out of that canyon the next day I vowed never to return, but I actually did a year later when I school offered the trip, and I had a really splendid time. However, everyone who went on the night hikes heard footsteps in the woods around them and experienced wacky flashlights malfunctions, which is to be expected when the ghost man is out there. That is precisely the reason I didn’t go on the night hikes, I knew about the aggravating spirit that lay waiting in the darkness, so instead, I elected to stay in my tent, on my phone, where I had downloaded a Patton Oswalt comedy special and had a very enjoyable evening.
Next week I got another doozy so keep an eye out for that one.
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Thoughts from a Balcony

something has changed.

colors are duller

even flowers look sad.

my eyes feel like a melancholy ocean,

and my cheeks the sand; waiting for the waves to rush on to them.

tears have replaced laughing,

smiles feel hollow.

my face has a different complexion,

more pale, more hopeless, less me.

my body feel lethargic, corpulent, and ignominious,

i am rotting from the inside out.

i have lost a part of me; the will to push, the will to continue, the will to strive

and it shows.

things that barely phased me are now barricades.

it’s hard to exist when you feel like you have nothing to live for.

oh me, oh life, oh self… where have you gone?

photo credit: weheartit.com

untitled

I started my junior year one month ago, which I have been waiting for pretty long time ago. I heard this year will be super tough, taking tons of AP courses, preparing for quizzes, tests, exams, and finals that come one after another. Besides, also need to take care about extracurricular activities, social relationships, being a student leader or something like that. All of those things are taking up both my time and energy. 

photo credit: jjhsfocus.com

It has been 4 weeks since this school year started.

What did I do so far? I don’t know. Probably nothing. 

Nah. I definitely did something, not just something, I have done a lot of things.

I wrote four reading journals and rewrote them several times, three short answer questions, two stories, one lab report, took the first unit exams for all my classes…… Almost every day was extremely busy, I got super exhausted every night, and need to refill my energy level back up every morning.

Actually, the school itself, does not seem to be that much more challenging compared to last year. And the challenges I am struggling with now are not really difficult, they’re just new to me.

There are always ups and downs in life. I am happy I have someone to share both my happiness and unhappiness. 

where my eyes cease to look

If I may,

through ye rivers

through ye trees

it is you who have suffered

by the hand of me

with starlets faded

and trumpets drowned

ye murky streams

stood idle

held fast in winter sounds

– you’re a river –

ancient winnings left unsung

you’re my peer, my equal

yet you still leave me stung 

ye valley, ye hillside, ye marbled dismay

covered in oleander

onward ye May

ye gargling, ye moving, ye ponderous brook 

(struck through me!)

a center it took

“Tear me to pieces

cut out where my eyes cease to look”

and just then will they open to see

the face of summer laughing at me

with eyes open wide 

my love it did wander

for bitter I was

my heart it did squander:

ye forest, ye mountain, ye breeze

ye sunglass driving, ye proliferate bees.

Suppose I am the offspring of thine shepherd:

you are the hunt,

that which I am after.

and with the fall comes the rapid convergence:

mine sweet love’s resurgence

But once again the autumn leaves took

to a different stream or babbling brook

and forevermore I am wandering in a forest ever stranger

of perilous rot

and cavernous danger

All that which a summer could bring!

but once again I am searching for a longer sting

and what of the prospect? What this winter will bring!

while more I could say might strengthen the pressure 

I leave with you no words, no rhyme, no measure

that might contrast mine song of May

it tingles, it trickles, and just may delight

in telling a story of our precarious plight

with the sincerest intentions on an immeasurable scale,

all that you’re left with is a tacky email

and no words, no sermons, no divine light

could bring you back the way it would 

into my life.

minutes later you answer:

true love is true love’s killer

Credit: https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/1992.5112/