Category: feelings

that’ll be it

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

I’m graduating in less than 18 weeks. 18 weeks seem like a long time, but, when I think about all the things I will be doing from now until may 31st, it suddenly isn’t that far away anymore.

I haven’t gotten a single college acceptance yet. I haven’t gotten rejected, either, but that only means that I’m just as far away from knowing where I want to go next year as I was two months ago.

Photo Credit: ocregister.com

In a few weeks, I’ll be performing in my last ever musical here. I’ll be going on my last ever ski trip with this school. I’ll be going to my last ever prom, probably without a date. I’ll be playing at my last ever talent show (with no talent, still), and I’ll be going to my last ever OVS graduation, but this time it’s mine.

I’ll be walking down the stairs, sit lined up with my classmates on stage, get my diploma, and then that’s it. That’ll be the end of my past four years that were such an important chapter in my life and that contributed to so much of my personality. That’ll be it.

But, before that happens, there are so many more weekends to spend watching movies in the lounge, many more camp trips to go on and freeze my a** off, many more mental breakdowns over tests and AP’s to endure, horse shows to go on, story deadlines to miss, town trips to spend at Bliss getting frozen yogurt, sunsets to watch from the soccer field, and memories to make.

I won’t lie and say that this school and my life here is perfect. There are many things that I would like to change, but I don’t want to get into that now. Because there are so many more things that I am thankful for. Again, my time here hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been amazing. And in 18 weeks, it’ll be over, that’ll be it. And then, it’s time for another chapter.

 

past journal entries with added (commentary)

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment
photo credit: pinterest.com

I wasn’t sure what to say tonight, so I decided to comment on a few things I found while flipping through my journals. Enjoy:

November 3, 2015: Middle school is hard.
(This one made me giggle.)

March 6, 2016: Being carefree is not the same as being careless.
(Not sure what prompted me to jot this down. I probably thought it was a lot more profound back then, but I guess it’s still a valid point.)

April 5, 2017: I got hit in the eye with a baseball today.
(I remember it like it was yesterday. Ouch.)

November 20, 2018: TOO MANY FEELINGS AT ONCE! WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE AND YOUNG!
(This one was written in capitals and had some vigorous underlining. I like it.)

December 4, 2018: I’m just so different than I was before. But I think that’s a good thing, somehow.
(Yay for personal growth!)

December 23, 2018: Some people are just easy to love, and easy to fall in love with. They are both my favorite and least favorite kind of people.
(haha no comment.)

January 6, 2019: “Wish I was there, wish we’d grown up on the same advice, and our time was right…”
(These are Frank Ocean lyrics. MAN, I wish I could write songs like Frank Ocean.)

Sometimes I write down the random thoughts that pop into my head. It’s kind of cool to see how they have evolved over time. That’s all for now.

 

Not if, but When

mypetlobster1Leave a comment

Loralee was born on April 28, 1970. Loralee died on June 3rd 1970.

My mom never met her sister; I never met my aunt. She spent her thirty-six days in a hospital. Loralee wasn’t born lucky.

Due to her cleft pallet, she was unable to swallow. The hospital put a tube down her throat to feed her. Instead of going into her esophagus, the tube was misplaced and put into her lungs. After a month and three days, her lungs were filled from the tube’s givings and she died from suffocation.

Loralee Myra French never came home. My mom never got to see her sister. My mother was less than two years old. I wonder what my grandmother told her. How could you explain that to an innocent child?

My mom learned the full story when she was older.

I learned the full story a week ago.

Recently, my great aunt died. I wasn’t close to her. She was an awful person. She put her son through absolute shit, abused my grandmother, and put my mom’s side of the family through living hell.

Even though she was a cruel human being, it hit me hard when she died. As bad as it sounds, it wasn’t hard for me because I cared about her a lot, it was harder for another reason.

As I’m getting older, death is so much more real. I understand it and am effected by it more and it takes place more in my life.  There are so many people who are going to die in my lifetime: my parents, my grandparents, my kindergarten teacher, the owners of my favorite place in the world… There are so many people who have died in my lifetime: my grandfather, my aunt, my favorite artist, my dad’s best friend.

I’m still young, but I’m old enough to understand how abruptly life can end.

I was doing driver’s ed a couple days ago. I read a story about a man who got in a car crash and killed his best friend.

One mistake, one wrong turn, one bad decision, and your life could be done.

We all know we will die one day. It’s not “if;” it’s a “when?”

When am I going to die? When are you going to die? It’s inevitable, unescapable, and, in my opinion, scary. So scary.

On the news, I read about a girl who traveled in Costa Rica, met a man at an Airbnb, and went missing. Later, she was found dead.

One misgiving of trust, one ignorant move, one second of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you could be found lifeless too.

And, then, there’s so many undeserving people who die cruel, miserable deaths. Cancer, suffering, abuse, rape. So many innocent people whose lives get taken away. Just like the young rape victim who was found dead in a suitcase behind a dumpster, just like orphan who starved to death, just like the 13,000 people who died in shootings this year, just like the young baby who only got to spend thirty six days on this earth; my aunt Loralee Mya French.

Welcome to My Mind

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Welcome, close the door behind you if you would.

Sit down or look around, do as you please, but don’t break anything. Welcome to my mind. I haven’t let many people in here, in fact, only about three, but I don’t want to get into that for now.

This is a quiet place with music you can hear. It’s colorful, mainly with primary colors, aside from the green swooshes that you see flying through at times. That’s my creativity and it usually comes and goes.

Photo Credit: ink361.com

Over here is my bookshelf. You know, I don’t really like to read, I much rather make up stories of my own. God, look how many I’ve written so far! They’re all in here, of course, never on paper. It would probably be a waste of paper, if I’m being real.

Over here is my picture wall. As you can see, it is almost entirely filled up with dogs (they just make for the best pictures). And my friends, of course, all of them or most of them. The good ones, that are still in my life today. The other ones, I threw out. But the good ones, I’ll keep forever.

Oh, don’t look behind that door; that’s where I keep the things I don’t wanna be reminded of. Most of them are just plain embarrassing, but some of them are sad. Well, I have a couple of sad pictures on the wall still, but I think I’ll take them down soon.

And there, in this cabinet, is my motivation. Not much in there, I know, but the stuff that’s in there is good. You’ll see.

Down here, underneath this trap door, of course, are my fears. Please, don’t open it. I’m not in the mood to get them back in there again. Sometimes one of them pop out to say hi and make me worry about stuff, but usually they’re fine down there.

And here, this I’m especially proud of. This is my love. It looks like a pot of flowers, but it’s a lot better because I don’t think it could ever die. If it can, I don’t want to be alive to see it.

You can stay if you want; you can always come back, too. I hope I gave you a good tour and I’m glad you stopped by. Goodbye for now! Hope I’ll get to visit yours too sometime.

Tattoo

mycountrythoughtsLeave a comment

Recently I got a tattoo and everyone has been wondering what it is or why I got it.  I haven’t explained it to many people because I just haven’t had time to fully explain it.  There are so many things someone must know to understand why I got that tattoo.  It is not something simple to me.  I mean I planned it for 8 years, so what can you expect?

When I was very young, around the age of 4, I took father and daughter guitar lessons with my dad.  I don’t really remember the classes, but one day has always stood out to me more than others.  My dad and I went to the class, then went to the fair after.  We got mint chocolate chip ice cream and I just loved spending the day with my dad.  The main focus of the day was music, but that was most days for us.

Another really strong memory I have with my dad is painting with watercolors.  We painted together so many times that I don’t have just one day I can recall.  All I remember is painting with him.

He was very artistic. In fact, I think that I got my artistic side from him.  We used to always jam out to “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath in his car and look at nature together.  We always talked about how beautiful nature was.  Our favorite colors were green and blue because they were always in nature and we both had beautiful blue eyes.

In 2011, God decided that it was time for my dad to go home.  I tried to follow him multiple times, but luckily I failed.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

Now that I got the background information out of the way, I think I can actually explain my tattoo.

My tattoo is a black bass and treble clef that resemble a heart with blue, green, and purple watercolors behind it on my forearm.  It sounds simple, but it really isn’t.

I have known since I was 10 I wanted a heart for my dad but I did not know what kind.  I decided that when I saw the music heart that I knew it was perfect.  I feel most connected to him through any sort of art.

The bass clef has low notes in music while the treble has high notes.  This is to remind me that there are lows in life, but there are also highs.

The bass clef normally has a colon at the end, but I decided to make it a semicolon because there is a very famous project known as The Semicolon Project, which raises awareness for suicide victims and survivors.  After my father passed, I thought I could not handle life without him, but I can and the semicolon is a reminder that I can.

The watercolors in the back are not just cool colors to me.  Whenever I see blue and green together, I always think of my dad so I thought they were the only fitting colors to have.  I added purple as a sort of transition color.

The reason I am calling them watercolors is because they look like splashes of watercolors.  The reason I added them was not just for a pop of color.  It was because some of the best memories I have of him are when we were painting together and most the time we used watercolors.

The placement is not random either.  I know to some people it is dumb to have a tattoo so visible, but I do not care.  It is visible in most dresses, but I want it that way.  My father cannot walk me down the aisle so having the tattoo on my arm out in the open is the closest I will ever get.

a thank you letter

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

I want to say thank you to my body.

Photo Credit: thisiscolossal.com, Raija Jokinen

I’m thankful for my feet and for all of the blisters and calluses they’ve endured, simply because they’ve kept me grounded.

I’m thankful for my legs, because even though sometimes I think they are too short, they are strong. My legs have carried me across miles, mountains, and everything in between.

I’m thankful for my stomach, my back. I am thankful for my chest, because it protects my lungs and my heart.

I’m thankful for my arms, no matter how much I hate the way they look in tank tops, because they help me lift myself back up.

I’m thankful for my shoulders, the same ones that I used to think were too broad and boyish, for always keeping my head up.

And lastly, I’m thankful for my head. Although it isn’t always level, it houses my brain and all of the thoughts that are constantly buzzing around in it.

We spend too much time hating our bodies. It is easier to find things we don’t like about ourselves than it is to find things we do like. We can’t control the way we look, but we can control how we feel about ourselves.

And even though it’s hard sometimes, I think we should all try to thank our bodies every once in a while.

We need to be kinder to ourselves, kinder to our bodies. We deserve that.

My body isn’t perfect, but it has gotten me this far. And I’m so thankful for that.

New Year, Improved Me

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I started off 2018 with so many resolutions. I was going to lose weight and gain abs, keep straight A’s, save up all my money to go traveling, and I fulfilled none of those resolutions.

Because, whenever I make New Year’s resolutions, I make them so they’re far beyond my reach in such a small time. When I make huge goals, I get disappointed when I don’t reach them in a short time, so I end up quitting along the way.

So, in 2019, I won’t make grand wishes for myself. I’ll make small ones and I’ll keep adding to those small ones until I get the results I want.

Photo Credit: vox.com

I didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions, but I do have small goals for myself I hope to continue through the year:

Write in my diary. I started writing in a journal at the beginning of 12th grade when I was feeling down, but I suddenly stopped when life got better. I don’t want to stop. I want to write about everything that excites, depresses, or even angers me. But I don’t expect to write in it every day because I get busy or just tend to forget, but I hope to grab my journal and write anything and everything whenever I remember.

Eat healthier. This doesn’t mean I’m gonna completely cut out junk food from my life. I’m still gonna eat my favorite candy and journalism snacks and stop at In-N-Out when I leave LAX. But I’ll also add more vegetables to my plate and avoid gluten when I can. I’ll add better foods to my diet without necessarily taking away all the bad ones.

Dedicate a little more time to playing guitar and piano.

Be more inclusive with my friends.

Work out more. Not full work outs at the gym, but small ones before bed. Sit ups, stretches, squats, etc. all while watching Netflix or talking over the phone with my friends.

Live life in the moment. I want to go to concerts and dance and sing my heart out in the back instead of hoping to be at the front for that one Instagram photo just to prove I was there. Laugh in the moment instead of worrying about the potentially inexistent consequences of the future. Wear the outfit I thought was cute though I don’t necessarily think I look cute in it. Find people who want to be with me instead of waiting on those who don’t. And live.

2019 isn’t a new year for a new me, but it is a new year for an improved me and that’s what I hope to do.

I picked a rose today

mypetlobster1Leave a comment

I picked a rose today.

It was beautiful and perfect, so I tore it off its stem.

I ended its life to improve mine.

I liked seeing it in my hands,

it’s symmetry and beautiful color.

I picked it; it was mine now.

I carried it around with me,

I started thinking.

What if I was this rose?

Minding my own business,

fulfilling the fate mother nature gave to me.

Happy, growing, thriving, sitting on my stem,

then along came a girl.

She broke my neck.

She tore me from my home.

What did I ever do to her?

I think the Earth got mad at me.

Its leaves started to wilt and turn brown at the edges.

The bugs living inside started to crawl on my hand,

almost like a plead for help.

“Why did you take our home, leave us destined to die?”

I think the Earth got mad at me,

I think I deserved it.

After carrying it around for a while, I set it on a tree and left it.

I picked a rose today,

it was beautiful and perfect, so I tore it off its stem.

I could have just left it,

let it be.

Let the bugs live in its center.

Let the Earth run its course: the rose would continue to grow,

it would later begin to wilt,

it would eventually die.

It was destined to die eventually, but not the way it did.

If I had left it, it would have died with the other roses.

It would have raised numerous families of bugs.

It would have fallen to the ground decomposed and continued the cycle it was destined to do.

Instead, I picked it.

It will now die on a tree

away from the other roses.

It will die far sooner than it should,

start to wither away from being separated from its stem.

And why does it come to this fate? Because I was selfish.

I could have left it,

enjoyed it’s beauty from afar.

But no,

I was selfish.

I wanted it for my own.

It could have been enjoyed by many more people,

but instead it lays withered and rotting on a tree, slowly dying.

I picked a rose today,

I ended a rose today.

 

Photo Credit: jacksonandperkins.com

 

Suffocated

mypetlobster1Leave a comment

I knew you before, but we had never talked. I knew of you.

It was just recently that I met you. When you looked at me, I blushed. I felt something I couldn’t describe.

You had my number from a while back and you texted me that night… You told me how we had this connection that was rare and beautiful.

You said that you wanted to get to know me better. I said I wanted to too.

I had heard bad things about you, but I didn’t believe it. And in the end, it wasn’t you who was at fault, it was me.

You made me feel special, loved, happy.

We talked for hours. I told you my insecurities, you told me your secrets too.

But, apparently, I scared you off.

I remember saying “I’m scared that if you get to know me, you won’t like me anymore.”

You promised that would never happen, that I could never scare you away.

Well, you lied. In less than a day, you got distant. I got scared; I reached out.

You went from saying things that made me feel adored, to saying nothing at all.

I couldn’t stand it, I knew I should have let you be, but I couldn’t.

“Do you still like me?” I asked.

“Yes, but your feelings are kind of suffocating right now,” he replied.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” you said.

Suffocating…

You had told me you wanted something that would last, you told me to be clingy, you told me you wanted to be with me for a long time,

Yet in two days of talking, you call me suffocating.

How can you say you still like me but you want me to leave you alone?

How can you have said that I was the perfect girl for you, then turn me away the next day?

I’m suffocating…

It’s hard to breathe the absence of love. It’s not that I loved you, I guess I just loved the thought of you. I thought you were perfect.

“Love’s like oxygen. You get too much you get to high, not enough and you’re going to die.”

You built me up, maybe it was part of your manipulating trick. You built me up so much, made me feel so special, then stripped it all away.

We’ve only known each other for three days, it’s almost impressive how you manage to hurt me this bad.

I can’t breathe, I feel empty.

Like a void, a wound, a puncture in my chest.

I’m gasping for air, yet I’m still suffocating.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

They warned me about you, told me how your kindness was just a way of manipulating me into getting what you wanted.

But the sad part is, I went a long with it, I feel so hard for you that I would have given you what you wanted.

I’ve cried, I’ve stayed in bed for almost a day… all of this for you. My spirit builds up so high when I get a notification on my phone. Maybe it’s you. It never is.

You broke me.

And yet you say you’re the one suffocating.

But at the root of it all, it’s not you at fault.

You gave me a chance; I blew it.

I came on too strong maybe? I tried to talk to you too much maybe?

I’m sorry I made you feel suffocated.

If only I could have been better. If only I could be better.

Maybe then someone will love me.

Until then,

I’m just here

suffocating.

One Year

maydaygaskarthLeave a comment

One year ago I remember clearly.

I had my guitar on my shoulder, leaving the warm dorms to trek across the chilly campus to my weekly music lesson, but the air was different than usual.

Everyone was huddled outside, talking as they saw smoke in the distance and hues of red burning in the sky that felt so distant at that moment.

“Are you really going to your lesson right now? There’s a fire,” my friend asked me.

Of course I would go to my lesson. It was my favorite part of Monday nights. Plus, the fire was nowhere near us, nothing would happen, and nothing would change.

Oh, how I was wrong.

Everything changed.

Photo Credit: pbs.org

Yet, so many things stayed the same.

One year later, I’m getting ready to go to my Monday night guitar lesson.

I have a new guitar, but it means so much more now. I appreciate it more now.

I’m still in a dorm room, wondering what I’ll be getting for secret snowflake tomorrow.

But I’m in a new dorm room, with a new roommate, on a new part of campus.

I don’t have the same clothes I had a year ago. The same photos, yearbooks, or blankets.

But, I have the photos I’ve taken since then.

My stuffed animal and All Time Low pillow I saved from the fire.

I still have the memories of the fire.

The ones that haunt me.

The ones that bring me to tears thinking about what I lost, what my friends lost, and what the whole school lost.

But, the memories remind me of how I became a stronger person since.

How my friends became stronger.

How the school became stronger.

How the county’s stronger.

More united.

More appreciated.

I still remember the day I returned from Christmas break and stepped on to campus and moved into the new dorms.

Being welcomed by overwhelming support, welcome back goodie bags, and hugs from my friends.

Seeing my horse for the first time since the fire and knowing he was safe and healthy. That all the other horses were safe.

The fire was so destructive, so horrible, but so many things came out of it that I’m more thankful now for than ever.

It’s been one year and I’m still sensitive to the scent of smoke and fire, to the sound of news about other California fires on the TV.

But, one year later, the mountains are a little greener.

My home is still stronger than ever.

And that’s the most beautiful thing of all.