Suffocated

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.

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Letter to Santa

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

I have a family friend who is staying with me over the holidays and she has a young son who still believes in Santa.  He was scared I didn’t believe in Santa, so my mom told him that I still believed in Santa.  He said that if I didn’t write a list I wouldn’t get any presents from him, so I had to write out a list and send it to my mom so he could see it.  It was fun to write, so I thought I would share it:

Dear Santa,

This year for Christmas I want a dirt bike, tall boots, more riding gear, new earrings, clothes from American Eagle, a car wash, buckeyes, new tires, new rims, stuff for my car, a Kat Von D contour palate, a snowboard, plane tickets to Tennessee, squared toe boots, clutch/gas socks, anything car related, and CD’s for my car.

Thank you, Santa.

From,

Me

 

A World Collapsed


There once was a thing named freedom. The gods created it for everyone to hold on to from birth and throughout their life, for all of us to rely on. It was a given right and we thought it was safe to stay.

It was a world of peace, as it was supposed to be. A world where we would talk and learn and see the places we wanted to see and know the things we wanted to know; it was a free world.

Photo Credit: can.pixabay.com

There was also a thing named envy. The gods didn’t create it, people did. Why? No one knows. Because the people were bored? Because they were intimidated and jealous? Who knows? But, what can we do? Envy is the flawed human trait, one of them at least.

When envy spread across our peaceful world and the people first tasted its sour acid rain, freedom started to fade. First, the people claimed the world and its land. Then, they saw the beauty of nature and took it. They saw the beauty of the birds and took it, locked them in and traded their freedom for amusement. They kept taking, claiming, and destroying. One day, the greediest of people, saw another person and took them.

Freedom has been on the brink since then. Our world has never been the same since we started taking other people’s freedom for our own comfort. Some of us want it to be the way it used to be, some want this to be a free world again. But, some of us are not enough of us.

My Little Journal

So many things I can’t say out loud.

So many things I want no one to know, but I want everyone to know at the same time. I want to scream them out into the void and have someone find my words and listen. A complete stranger, one who won’t judge me, though, I wouldn’t really care if they did.

I have so many things I want to write out. Emotions, frustrations… life. But, I can’t formulate the words to say to the people I want to listen, nor can I figure out how to write them on here.

So, I bought a journal. A small, leather journal that I write all my thoughts into.

I tried journaling a number of times in the past, but it only lasted two days maximum. Now, I can’t put my journal down. I write and write, sometimes words of gibberish, but they fill pages of my thoughts, pouring out of the pencil and onto the lined pages.

Now, I make sure to grab my journal and pen every night before I go to bed and I write. I write until my fingers feel numb and the lead wears down.

I guess it feels nice having an outlet to express myself. One that feels like I’m talking to many, when, in reality, I’m the only one who gets to read it. It makes me feel safe and exposed all at once, a type of feeling I never thought would be so rejuvenating.

Photo Credit: Favim.com

Icarus

Don’t get too close to the sun, for you will fall

Don’t get to close to the water, for you will drown

Instead stay on the ground, just safe and sound.

So he did.

Day by day, he’d waste his life away

Blinded by the sun

Immersed into the waves that crashed against the shores

Don’t get too close to the sun, for you can’t fly

Don’t get too close to the water, for you can’t swim

Instead stay on the ground, where you might win

So he stayed.

He stayed on the ground, safe from the wind.

And life dreaded on

And one day he looked around while everything was safe and sound

He started to drown

Not in the shallow waters

He drowned inside himself, drowning in the pools of regret and sorrow

So he got up, and got out

And he flew far away, but he fell

He got too close to the sun, and he fell

He didn’t fly too close to the sun because he thought he could

He flew because he was told he couldn’t

Photo Credit: RaychulWhatsername Deviantart

The Book Of Mormon

Over spring break, I had the opportunity to see The Book of Mormon live in New York City. To put it simply, the whole musical was pure genius. The whole show was hilarious, the choreography incredible, and the singing even more so.

However, despite how much I loved the show, I’m surprised that it’s even still on Broadway. I could easily say it’s one of the most controversial shows to exist, yet somehow, it’s not that controversial. In fact, according to some people I’ve talked to, Kinky Boots is more controversial simply because of the cross dressing, completely ignoring the fact that the Book of Mormon was offensive to just about every race, religion, and sexuality.

I could tell that the whole musical is basically satirical to the Mormon Religion, but in the progressive society we live in, I’m still trying to ponder how the Book of Mormon has not been shut down by Twitter and Instagram activists alike. Either people don’t watch Broadway shows enough, or it isn’t seen as a problem, even though one Tweet intended to be a joke could be interpreted wrong and ruin someone’s life.

Now, I’m going to dive into an overly, probably unnecessary, analysis of the whole musical and the music included.

For those who haven’t seen the musical yet, it follows the story of two young Mormons who travel to Uganda to convert the people there to the Mormon religion. The musical basically mocks the Mormon religion, but also uses offensive stereotypes of other races and sexualities to get their point across.

This whole analysis isn’t me criticizing the musical. In fact, it was probably one of the best musicals I’ve ever seen besides Hamilton or Aladdin, but I’m just genuinely trying to figure out how this musical hasn’t caused more controversy.

But then I realized the answer, and it’s because the entirety of the show is mocking the extremities of the Mormon faith and being entirely satirical of it. Maybe everyone who’s seen it and every critic who’s analyzed it has realized that that is the whole purpose of the show, and everyone who buys a ticket is ready to either be offended or be entertained on a whole new level.

First, let’s talk about the song “Hasa Diga Eebowa,” a song the citizens of Uganda sing when the two Mormons travel to the town for the first time.

To translate just the song title, it’s saying “F**K You God,” and that alone should’ve caused uproar to some of the people watching it, however it ended up just causing the whole audience to burst into laughter.

But the reason is that there were these people in Uganda suffering from hunger, a corrupt government, and many other issues (not to forget all the stereotypes of third world countries in Africa they mentioned), and there were these two guys trying to sugarcoat their troubles and convert them to their religion. That was saying that all their problems would go away if they followed the word of the book. Maybe that’s a flaw of all religions alike, that problems won’t just go away with a little bit of optimism. The song was criticizing that idea, but in a way that made it capturing and hilarious.

Photo Credit: popejoypresents.com

 

Next song, is “Turn It Off” which was basically a song about a little trick they had to turn off their emotions or “bad” thoughts, one of these, including homosexuality. Now that’s homophobic isn’t it? Was that the intention of the writers, or was it, yet again, being satirical about the faith? Were they criticizing the fact that the religion that preached to be good, was being bad to people who didn’t fit their standards? They weren’t necessarily being homophobic, but they were using examples of homophobia to shine light on the issues that came with the faith.

Next, was “Spooky Mormon Hell Dream” which was my favorite song in the whole show. Basically, Elder Price broke rule seventy-two and was now having a nightmare where he was sent into Hell for eternity. There’s the fact that he was in Hell with Hitler, Genghis Khan, and Jeffrey Dahmer, but he thought he was the most evil of them all. Now, that’s being critical of the ridiculous expectations of Mormons and rules they have to follow. The fact that one little bad act was sinful, and left them believing that they were sinful at the same level as some of the most evil people in history, that’s ridiculous. Now, this example in the show is definitely hyperbole, but it’s still a real problem addressed even if it’s to a much lesser extreme.

Those are just a few examples, but how is this show that’s so insulting still so widely accepted as only comical?

Maybe it’s because it’s so hilarious that people don’t really care, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s a musical meant to be mocking and not actually real life, but isn’t the point of the show to mock the actualities of the religion’s extremities?

I don’t know the definite answer, I’m still trying to figure it out, but for now I’ll keep listening to the songs and continue to analyze this show one too many times.

 

Greek Tragedy (pt. III)

Read pt. I here and pt. II here. — (music)

Spring.

The light filtering into the kitchen was the type of gray-white light that made her glow like a goddess. She was fastidiously picking through a bowl of cereal for the fruit, too focused to really care about the food. He came and placed a hand on her shoulder, stilling her arm, he tiptoed his fingers across her collarbone to her other shoulder and pulled her in, his bicep laying gently across the top of her t-shirt, his hand idly playing with the hem of her sleeve.

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It was still chilly outside and he could see a mist drifting by the window, the grass looked like blades of pure emerald. Rich and dark, sharp in comparison to the fogged and blurred weather. He glanced down into the grass under the window, he could just see the tale of a garden snake, he had begun to think of it as his pet this last month, disappearing into the grass. He tapped her twice on the arm.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to find the right words,” she hummed.

∆∆∆

As the weather had warmed she had grown colder and colder. The spread of tingling embers that always started in her ribs and shoulders, that radiated out when he was near her, faded into cool pinpricks, like rain or snow. The clock had ticked out the final seconds: tick, mine; tock, mine; tick, mi– and then it was gone, the ticking of the clock was gone. They were no longer tied together, something no longer felt right.

So she found a way to say goodbye.

∆∆∆

He knew he shouldn’t. But he did.

Stop.

He couldn’t help it. He had to look at her one last time, to look back on her like he always had, if only he could have walked the road in time, he could have let the music of what tied them together play as a reminder that she was there, she was real, she was his. But he had to stop — look.

Photo Credit: dreamstime.com

Today she was in white — she never wore white — mourning. She was frozen mid-stride, a raindrop stopped just upon impact with her nose. He reached out and hugged her fiercely, angrily. Wildfire’s searing nails dragged down every nerve in his body. If only he hadn’t looked. If only — he stared at her eyes: cool, unwavering, timeless. He bent down to her —

Start.

He was back in the doorway his back to her, turning away. He tried to spin back, feeling like reality had finally slowed to meet him. He turned just in time to watch helplessly as she slipped away, pulled by an unseen force.