Simpler

I wish the world were numb.

Pain never a factor,
hope never a dream,
feelings stay hidden.

Love is the worst.
Try to convince yourself
it will last forever.
Never knowing.

Why do I try?
All I do is hurt
when it's all
said and done.

I feel nothing and everything.
Emotions, a blur.
Am I alone?
I wish the world were numb.

Wrists

One cannot wash away pain

with visions of self-pity.

Yet when the gold rises,

The day is still dark.

How difficult it is

to look but not see.

Spend a lifetime

searching for something that is never there.

I do not place blame

on those who cannot find a reason.

I have been in their place,

still am, forever more.

I turn in my sleep

and remember the past.

The world, always grinning,

when my wrists were clean.

The future is blurred,

and you are not there.

I consider the reasons,

and remember I breathe alone.

Happy Birthday, Adam Young!

Hello, all!

Let's take this moment right now to acknowledge and celebrate this day, as it marks the birth of the incredible human being that is Adam Young.

Adam's music has and still does give me the perseverance and faith to get through difficult situations. He's been able to keep me going through the toughest of times and both he as a person and his music was what would inspire me to carry on. I can't even begin to explain how much I owe to this man for what he's been able to do for me, even though he probably doesn't even know he's done it.

I could go on for hours, but I'll keep this short and sweet (despite the fact he will probably never see this):

Happy twenty-sixth birthday, Adam Young! I hope you have a phenomenal day, because you really deserve it. Keep making music!

Sincerely,

Stephanie

Worried, Hopeful, and Scattered

Everything is good. I worry.

For a while, all I had been feeling was sadness. There were just so many wrong things happening in my life. Now, everything's taken a full turn-around. Everything's gotten better: the heartbreak, the loneliness, the pain, the worry, the failures. All better. Not perfectly ok, but better. All it took was three years.

And here's where I start to worry:

I learned early on in my life not to get my hopes up. I mean, what's the point of trying if there's a high chance it's not going to work or pay off in the end? Yes, I'll admit that's a very pessimistic way to think, but that's the way it was for a long time. I was and still am used to disappointment. It's fairly inevitable when you think about it. Life always seems to end up hurting someone, whether it's yourself or another when it's all said and done.

I haven't been happy like I am now for a long time. Sure, I still have those dreadful times where I fall apart and give up; I've learned to accept that that's just a part of me now and I don't know how to stop it, no matter how much I hate it.

Lately, there's always been someone there to pick up the pieces of my shattered self and attempt to put them back together again. I haven't had that for a long time in the same way I have it now.

Sometimes, I get scared. Why do they care? How can they care? It's hard not to be a skeptic towards these people when I'm so used to being let down. That's why I don't trust people very easily anymore. Every time I do, they're never afraid to find a way to break my trust without feeling an ounce of guilt within themselves.

But these people are here to look out for me. One of them, someone who's become very close to me, asked me if I trust them. I thought about this for a bit. I realized that I trust them more than I've trusted most people in the last three years. Although I still don't trust this individual one-hundred percent, I'm not afraid to admit that they're up there on the scale.

Even my relationship with my family has changed. I'm very different from them in a variety of ways, therefore, I don't confide in them with comfort. Lately, though, something's happened that brought us to become a bit more connected. I don't know what it was or when it happened. All that I know is that this change was necessary. For all of us. What I hope for now is that this new bond that has recently come to be will continue to grow stronger. Maybe that way, they'll understand who and what I am with less confusion and judgement. I have a lot of secrets, and at the moment, I don't believe my family would accept me because of them. I want this to change.

I guess all that I'm wondering now is why these new people I've found, the ones that care, do so. Blame it on low self-esteem, but I don't see how anybody living in this selfish reality we're forced to survive would even put a single thought towards me, let alone want to be there for me during my worst. After all that I've been through and the pain I've endured, it's hard to believe there's much good left in our generation. But I proved myself wrong because I've found this 'good.' It exists.

I'll wait till the end to see the results. Then I will know who is really there to stay. At least one of them has to be.

This gives me hope: The fact that one day, I'll find someone who will always be around. Just for me. We will belong to each other. Maybe it will be a best-friend, maybe a lover, maybe someone who I've really known all my life. I look forward to that day with happiness, because that will be the day I will finally fill that hole in my heart; the day I will become me again.

Message To Darling

Oh, my Darling,

You've let yourself go.

How much we'd miss you,

You'll never know.

Perhaps it is nonsense,

Maybe you're just a mess.

Your burdens are calling,

They tug at your dress.

Such a shame,

The harm society can do.

We've all fallen in,

All the talk is never new.

But if you sing

Just to hear your voice,

The birds will listen,

They don't have a choice.

The Day I Lost My Best Friend

March 10, 2012.

Sheba.

She heard all of my songs first. She would sit and listen when I wanted to play her one or just when I needed to vent. She knew when I was upset and would come to snuggle. She also knew when it was time to wake up and time to go to bed. I don't know how she knew these things. Sandpaper tongue and wet nose. I was mildly allergic.

She stopped eating and using the litter-box. Kidney failure since she was 7 years old. She's 17 now; it won't change anymore. She couldn't even walk anymore. She was old; it was time. Even if I didn't want to believe it.

On the way back from the vet, my mother made a comment on how Sheba is now in heaven watching us. I looked out the window. Through my tears, I could have sworn I saw the shape of her paw in the clouds with the sun in the middle of it. I'm so stupid.

Sheba. My best friend.

Hairbands and Elastic Principles

Let me ask you a question: Have you ever gotten less than thirteen hours of sleep during a span of three days? I have, and the result it not pretty. Everybody loves an emotional wreck, am I right?! This past week was an extremely exhausting one for me. I spent many nights lying awake at near two in the morning with nothing else but my laptop to keep me entertained whilst I tried to find some sort of sleepiness inside myself. I decided a few nights ago, during my period of sleep deprivation, that it would be a good idea to write something for my blog and try to shake my never ending curse of writer's block. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea. The following is what I ended up with. I really don't even know…

Have you ever wondered what it feels like to wander aimlessly through a dark space void? I haven't either, but now I am. It's basically a spa day for people who don't like to ride horses. My mom makes me eat steak and spinach because she thinks I need iron. The steak stares me in the eyes and laughs at my look of disgust. I would love to become a vegetarian, but then I remember I love bacon. Wind chimes are pretty cool. The newts are climbing the walls of the tank again. Because we cleaned it. A year ago. Through my silver tears, I can see the golden aura of all that is good and the blockaded skis above all that is the opposite. Why does my cat eat her cat litter? She's sick. It makes me sad. Can I ask you a question? Just kidding, I just did. Fooled you. Bet you didn't see that coming. I've recently started texting. I never text anyone. But now he's texting me so I have to respond! Why is my hair straightener sideways? I got a Webkinz for Christmas. Ashley, you're the best. If only I could breathe underwater. I'd be, like, the coolest kid ever. Or maybe just a freak-show in the circus. Or in a government laboratory. My mother once crocheted a pillow. There's a stupid red mark on my face and I don't like it. His glasses look good on him. Sometimes I like to imagine I'm in a forest. What's the definition of 'art?' Why do I use apostrophes as quotes? Why did the little mermaid wear seashells? Because she couldn't fit into D-shells. That's a knee slapper. Who even slaps their knee anymore? I do. Ingo is one of the best books ever. Lauren gave it too me in grade 6. Look. I wrote the number 6 instead of the word. I just did it again. That's because the llama-corn told me to. MY HEAD HURTS. I promise it's not drugs. I lied. It's the DRUG OF LOVE. Love for all the cats out there. I'm here for you. I see the stars and they are waving at me with their little tiny star arms. They told me to tell you they say 'hi.' I still have an opened Kleenex box from 3 years ago. This isn't L.A. class. English class. Same thing. Americans call Rockets candies Smarties. They aren't Smarties. Smarties are Smarties. Rockets are not Smarties. Google it. Bing it. I'm trying to get that to become a trend. Next time somebody asks you a question, tell them to Bing it. Not Google. Google's too mainstream for my hipster mind. Kennedy, you're also the best. Thank you again for the envelope. This concludes my awkward thank-you post. Who in the name of LaFawnduh gets writer's block for four months. See that time I wrote out the number 4. But that time I didn't. See the difference? Taste the difference. Taste the rainbow. Skittles are good, but they make my tongue hurt. I always spell tongue wrong. Spell check! I hear music! That's what headphones do! AAh! BAILEY WE ALL LOVE YOU. DON'T GIVE UP. I WOULD MISS YOU WITH ALL MY BUTT BECAUSE MY BUTT IS BIGGER THAN MY HEART. My heart is tired. Leopluradon's handbag was stolen. How's he suppose to text velociraptor and spinosaurus not to eat the baby brontosaurus now? Leopluradon has fins. How does he do it? My French teacher has lost her mind. I miss my cousin because I haven't seen him in a long time and he's now in Mongolia. Let's all plan a trip to Jordan so I can achieve my life long dream. You probably don't want to. So that's ok. I'll settle for Indonesia if you're more comfortable with it. I'm slowly turning into a scuba diving hippopotamus. Are hippopotamuses/hippopotami dinosaurs? When I write on a PC and Word autocorrects me and that little lightning symbol keeps on popping up just to mock me and my mistakes and failures, I want to rage-quit croquet and earn a living in scooping ice-cream for the homeless. I'm hungry. I haven't eaten for days. Are trees supposed to grow in your bellybutton? Maybe I swallowed an apple seed! I am a mountaineer in the hills and highlands. I wish I was a piano genius. I spelled genius wrong three times. There I go again with typing numbers! How silly, that does sound! 'Typing numbers!' I don't remember the word for it. School obviously pays off. Who'd have thought. The ostrich thinks that it's better than all the other animals just because it can stick it's head in the ground. Dude. Just get a psychiatrist all ready. That's seriously a bad habit. Just tossin' a shout-out to all my homey G's and fellow thug-pugs out thuur! PUGG LYFE. I'm tough. Tuff. Tuft. Fur. Animal. Wolf. Forest. Trees. Canopy. Bed. Let's make a mind-map of all the possible connections! The phone! The phone is ringing! Ming-Ming, you're my hero. Why. I'm too old to watch that show. But you're never to old to tip your bike upside down, turn the pedal, and pretend you're selling popsicles! I'm yawning. What's the brain's process behind it all. He's too smart for me. So now you know how penguins can ride motor scooters. Any questions? And that's when it happened. He reached for her hand under the moonlit path and said something he never thought he'd hear himself say. Slowly, he bent down and looked her in the eyes. She smiled, showing her perfect teeth. Ready to tell her how he felt, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, 'I could really go for a taco.' 

This Is Me

I see the birds.

Do they know where they're going?

Do they know what they want?

Instinct is what they follow.

I am a bird.

I see the snow.

Why so cold?

Why does it let itself blow away?

Changes at the touch of one's hand.

I am the snow.

I see the stars.

What do they do with their existence?

What will happen when they disappear?

Blend in with the rest, but stand out with a closer look.

I am a star.

I see the animals.

Where do they go when they need help?

Where do they cry?

Hide the pain, show little emotion.

I am an animal.

Mount the Noble Steed of Courage

What is optimism, really? Is it being happy and being able to look on the bright side of everything all the time? Or is it being an emotional wreck, having everything in life be a displeasing challenge you want to end, and still being able to make it through by the skin of your teeth and not surrendering completely? I suppose it really just depends on how you look at it. Maybe it's both, I don't know. I will tell you what I do know, though. I am certain that being optimistic is not always as easy as it sounds.

I have a friend who always seems positive and full of energy, even when things are rough. Don't get me wrong; she does get sad, just like anyone else. She just doesn't let it destroy her.  Things usually end up good for her in the end, and I'm happy for her. Another friend of mine is completely the opposite. Life doesn't always treat her the best and when things finally start to turn around, she treats it as if it's too good to be true and barely believes her good luck. So very sad, it is.

I love them both equally, despite their contrasting attitudes.

And I, well, I am stuck somewhere in-between the two of them. Neither positive nor negative, and not quite neutral. Most of the time, I switch between outlooks. One minute I'll be cheerful and outgoing, the next I'm wanting nothing more than to sit alone and ponder life and all that's gone wrong. For some reason, I imagine myself separate from the rest of my friends. I don't particularly like feeling like this, but it's something I can't help.

I'm just different. Good or bad, I do not know. All that is certain is that the majority of my heart lies alongside something or someone I have yet to come across. I'm still on the quest to find who I am and what I'm meant for, if anything at all. 

An undying feeling of wanting to belong, and not necessarily to anyone in particular. To be a piece that fits into the jigsaw of life. That's what I feel, what I want. And so that is what I will attempt to do and receive.

I will embark on a journey of bravery, confusion, excitement, challenges, and sometimes sadness. As selfish as it sounds, I will get what I want. I complain about not having anything to look forward to, so this can be it! I will stare down the path of success, letting my gaze rest on the light at the end, and believe that I will get there no matter how long it takes.

I desire change. My heart is set on being more friendly, positive, and patient with certain individuals. Most importantly, I yearn to be content. I'm growing tired of the sorrow I seem to drag along with me everywhere I go.

My attitude is the only thing that stands between me and victory. Swords at the ready, we're set to begin the duel. I already know I will win. There aren't many things in this world that are entirely under my control, but my emotional outlook is definitely one. It's just taken me a while to see that.

Yeah! I can do this!

My Recommendation

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for that. For the past few weeks, I've been self-diagnosed with Writer's Block and, quite frankly, it's not so easy to write with such a condition. I feel as if I'm just beginning to come out of it, but it's still hard to think of an idea to ramble on about as I usually do. Because of my lack of inspiration, I figured I'd try something different. Today, I will recommend a book for you. (I've never done too well at book reports, let alone writing with writer's block, so I'm sorry if it's kind of rough. I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things.)

One summer's day a few years back, I was wandering aimlessly through the local Chapters book store. I walked over to the Fiction/Mystery section only to have a book clothed in a bright, green cover catch my eye. Of course, I never judge a book by it's cover, but since it had captured my attention, I decided to read what the back had to say. Upon finishing, I realized that this book really was seeming to sound very interesting. And so, since I had plenty of time to spare while my dad was looking for a magazine to purchase, I found a quiet little nook on one side of the store, sat down, and began to read. It was absolutely intriguing. I purchased the book that day, and I've purchased every one following in the series ever since.

The book I am talking about is The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, written by Alan Bradley. Perhaps you've heard of it. If not, I suggest you go look into it.

The Flavia de Luce mystery series

The story takes place during the 1950s and the protagonist throughout the series is an eleven year old girl named Flavia de Luce. Flavia has a passion for chemicals and has her own chemistry lab in the mansion her family owns. Science isn't her only interest, however. Constantly seeming to run into murder mysteries by accident, she never fails to solve the case, often in assistance to the town's inspector.

The young girl's life seems to relate to that of Cinderella's. With Flavia's mother dead because of an accident that occurred when she was a mere baby, all she's left with now are a father who often ignores her, two older sisters (Ophelia and Daphne) whom find enjoyment in torturing and scaring her, and the family cook and maintenance man who seem to be the only people she can talk to and trust; well, as good as the juvenile detective can trust anyone.

Each novel in the series contains a different but equally thrilling mystery involving a murder or two, wars and revenge between Flavia and her sisters, and plenty of anticipation caused by the protagonist sneaking around on her bicycle (called Gladys) and occasionally falling into danger.

Bradley does an excellent job, in my opinion, at putting all the pieces of the puzzle together so when you think you've solved the mystery for yourself, it's hard to resist the urge to jump up and down in excitement because it feels as if you've walked alongside Flavia during her entire adventure and assisted in solving the crime. Or maybe that's just me.

Either way, the series has continued to be one of my favourites and it probably will be for a long time. Everything about it I found captivating and if you love a good 'whodunit' as much as I do, I suggest you look into this book and possibly the ones that follow.

Image credit:

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sweetness-at-the-bottom-of-the-pie-alan-bradley/1100259021?ean=9780385343497

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/weed-that-strings-the-hangmans-bag-alan-bradley/1100298146?ean=9780385342315

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/red-herring-without-mustard-alan-bradley/1100079322

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/i-am-half-sick-of-shadows-alan-bradley/1100156108?ean=9780385344012