New Year

The year started with a bang, or at least with one of my friends crouched over the toilet. I'm not much into New Year's resolutions. I don't know why but they just never seem to get done. But this New Year what I want is very simple: to do whatever is in my power to make myself happy because one day I'm going to have everything I want. I would rather start now than some years down the line. I do think it's possible for people to have all that they want and need. I just think that a lot of people have illusions of what they think they really want and need. It's important to know the difference between the two. For me, what I want most and need most is a home. A place where I can paint the walls, filled with love, friends, animals. A place that is a sanctuary for me and for the ones I love. And I know that every step I take is in that direction, I'd just rather go the quick route. So this year I'm going to get my life more on track, which of course means more updates because writing makes me happy.

Do you have any New Year's resolutions? Or lifelong goals?

Misspent Youth (86)

(My ears don't really stick out like that, it's just the headdress.)

You know, at first I didn't really want to write this. I suppose because I feel/felt it is too personal or might come off as some sort of sob story. I think I'm a much happier person now than I was when I was younger and they do say the more you talk about something, the more it gets off your chest, and the lighter you feel.

I spent a lot of my youth doing what I thought was expected of me, what I "should" do and very little of what I needed to do. I was too quiet about some things. This lead to all sorts of problems as time went on. I learned first hand how keeping things in could be a problem.

Of course all teenagers have their angst, their periods of ups and downs (and I guess I'm still in it, being 19) but sometimes things that you write off like that go deeper. I'm not going to say that I was abused but I did live in an emotional environment where I felt that my thoughts and feelings didn't matter. Couple that with my idealistic nature and you end up with a very sensitive girl who tries her damndest to be perfect to be worthy of love. I still struggle with those feelings, those "why doesn't he love me?" feelings.

But after the summer before my freshman year of college I realized that no matter if I did what I should, it really wasn't gonna please anyone, or at least not those who mattered to me. That summer was filled with angry phone calls, old paper work, lawyers, betrayal. . .In a way it seemed like a soap opera to me. Someone else's life. Something I would watch on tv. How could someone who loved me rip the earth from under my feet? I was in a position where I would have to succumb entirely to Should in order to be loved or go off in the opposite direction, towards what I needed and see what happened.

I abandoned Should. It wasn't doing me a lick of good. After years of Should I realized I had come no further than when I had set out. In fact, I'd gone back a few paces. It has been an uphill battle, addressing my wants and my needs, speaking up when I'm so used to falling silent. And while I can't say that opening my mouth has caused me no pain, I do think it's for the best. It's been thrilling. I guess I'm living my teen years now (to my mother's mortification.)

Still I look back at those days in middle school and in high school and I think, If only I had spoken up about how I felt--- But I'm learning to let it go. I did my best. I really did do my best.

I Carry (#85)

Everyday I leave the house with a stone on my chest and bags in my hand. It's a funny way to go places, with stones on your chest and bags in your hands. Heavy. But I don't mind it too much. Sometimes I feel as if the weight defines me. Weight lets you know that you're there, that you're alive. I need to feel alive.

The stone wasn't always there. It's a recent accoutrement from the most fashionable store in Paris-- Not really. But that's what people think when they see the mist in my eye. Oh she's a poet. That one's deep.

I'm not really.

It seems as if we spend our whole lives playing dodgeball. Only, the balls we're playing with are stones that stick to your chest and knock the wind straight out of you. They blindside you. This one blindsided me.

You know, I've always wanted my father's necklace. It was a necklace he never took off and that I saw him wear daily, ever since I can remember. It's a simple cross made of brown metal or maybe wood, hanging by leather cords. It's different though. It has three bars instead of just one, and the bottom bar is small and slanty.

I never got that cross. He gave me a stone instead.