Sometimes

Sometimes I want to talk about it. I mean, I want to really talk about it. Because it's hard to keep me bottled up. Sometimes it just feels like I'm like a soda can in the freezer, about to explode, because I haven't talked about it in too long and sometimes it's like everyone forgot, and sometimes it's like there's nothing for me to do but remember. Sometimes it's all I can think about, because it was such a big problem. It's hard for me to be like this, because, no, I'm not okay. I want to be, if that counts for anything. It doesn't though, does it?
But it doesn't though.
It's an escape for me, thinking of being home. Where is it, home, and when will I find it? Because I need it. It's what I think when I just need to not be where I am: I want to be home. And home is where the heart is, but my heart feels pretty far right now. I know it's there; I can feel it racing when he's here, pounding when I'm thinking about what happened, hurting when it's another compliment that I don't deserve. So it's there. And home isn't here, so I guess we all know how this is working.
I want to go home.
home home home. What is that anyway? What does that even mean? Because it's not where I live, it doesn't seem to be where my family is, despite my loving them, and it's not with him, which was what I was hoping for. And it sucks. Because it's my escape, home, and I can't find it. The only thing I have to use to escape from everything is an abstract idea I don't understand, can't attain, and can't find. What a good way to live a life, right? Dreaming of something that I might never find.
I want someone to talk to.
I want it. I want it really bad, but that's also out of reach. Because it can't be her, because it just wouldn't feel right. And it can't be him, because it's just not him, it's just not what I can see. And I don't want to take it back to the woman behind the pad on that couch that barely shifts at her slight existence, judgement all I hear. She doesn't care. Why should she? All she's there to do is tell me how far I am from being okay. What's motivating me to be honest with her? She has other clients to care about. Why should she care about me. At all. No reason.
I need someone who actually wants to hear it. I need someone who's not going to judge me, and not going to tell me how well I'm doing, or bullshit a lot about how much they care about me. They must know me already, because meeting me after already knowing is absolutely no good.
I need someone to talk to, and I need home.
But they've all forgotten, so what do I matter? I'm pretty much nothing any more. Just that other daughter they have, who they love dearly.

it's not that hard to listen...

I know she loves me. I mean, she has to. It's in her job description. But every word goes in one ear and out the other, leaving her confused. Did you say something? I can't hear you, can you speak up? No mom, I can't. Scratch that- I won't. You want to hear me? I'm talking. What I'm saying is important. So turn off the t.v you're blasting- those people are characters frozen in time. You don't love them more than your own daughter, now do you? Their problem can be put on pause, rewound, and- get this- isn't even real. So can't you put it on pause for a minute so you can hear what I have to say? My life doesn't have a pause button. I'm asking you for help, you've got one chance, if you don't take it, don't chastise me for my mistakes.
Is that even the problem, though? Is it then? Is it because I'm a little far away, the t.v's a little loud, the washer's a bit too overpowering?
No.

refuse refuse refuse

No one really thinks about it. It seems impossible, right? That something so tragically sweet and impossibly meaningful and astonishingly beautiful could ever be quite the opposite. That something that has survived the ages as something to revere, as something that was sacred for two to say would be such a death sentence. The words every girl wants to hear to know she's accepted, the words every boy (according to media) fears.
I love you.
Whatever it means to you could be something foreign to me, and you may find it weird when I tell you that for me I love you is nothing but trouble, because it means that whatever comes next can't be good. Protecting myself is my biggest priority because I really should be better at it, but I'm not. So I protect myself in every way I can, and if that's the only way I can, then so be it. But it means that my heart's going to be broken because I'm not naive, I know everything has an end and that I can be perfect for someone one minute then everything they never wanted the next, because that's who I am. I'm some sort of insanity, and a whirlwind, and the world around me can't sit still because that's just how I'm built.
Every compliment is something I can't live up to, so it's not what they think it is. Calling me beautiful doesn't make me feel as good now, because I'm a mess. And even if I hide it, I'm breaking down so calling me perfect is an insult. I put up that face, with the smile and the happy blue eyes, because it's better to be who I want to be and be happy for the moment I get than to have to suffer the constant inquiries about whether or not I'm okay. I'm fine if you ask, but not if you don't.
And I will lie to your face because I don't want to deal with it.
I thought it was fine, that I was good enough but I know I'm not. So if you could kindly step back and not get too involved? I'm not here for forever; I'm barely here at all. I don't mean to hurt you, but I'm not anything you say I am and I guess that that's my fault. You think so highly of me? Well look at me now, shattered on the ground and so far from getting up. Step back, I'll pick up the pieces. Run back to somewhere where you don't have to watch your step for the shards of my life that I miss.
Because I'm not perfect, and I know that, and I'm going to miss something. And that something will be something important, and I'll fall apart again. A vicious, never ending cycle, a cyclone, it'll pull you under like a tidal wave and I refuse. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse.
But he bought me roses....

Anyone Out There?

All at once it's the worst kind of loneliness. I spent this whole day with a group of people that my sister is really close with, the outsider of this group, but they accepted me. Then, as I left, I'm hugged by one of Mel's lovely friends and suddenly I'm not alone and there's this lovely male hugging and it's not just me alone in this little world that I've built but all at once that afternoon's done. So it's sort of just me once again. And I've gotten home and nothing much is wrong, then hours later it's all different, and I know. I know that nothing has actually changed since a few hours ago, but here I am and I feel completely alone. All I really want is for someone to be here right now; a friend that can talk to or depend on or just hug. It's been a month or two since someone held me, or hugged me for the sole purpose of making me feel better, instead of just to say hello, or goodbye. But as soon as I think of my parents coming home, I just want to be alone again, because they'll just judge me or talk to me about me going to church tomorrow, which I don't even want to think about right now.
I need someone, and badly, but there's really no where to go. But I can never really trust myself to get close to anyone if only because I'm too afraid of being a burden. I really need someone though, but I have no way to solve that problem. And I want to be alone but the second the right person approaches me, I'll let it go. Honestly, I just need someone to hug. But I'm stuck alone, but then again that's kind of how it's always been.

More Than This

It's funny to think about the way people perceive us. I mean, it's funny the way people see us by what we show, assume that's who we are, categorize us, and move on. And there's really nothing new to say on this topic, but what I say is what I feel needs to be said.
Anyone who met me at camp this year would categorize me as some energetic, bubbly, always person. This is who I am for the most part. For the most part I'm optimistic and I don't worry about what every one around me thinks, because all that matters is that they're smiling and that there's happiness. These people may never truly know me, but that's not a problem. I'm fine with them thinking of me as this magically and wonderfully happy person with an unwavering smile.
But then maybe I grow closer to a person, and they're opening up to me. Then I can mellow out, and stop laughing and smiling all the time because I know that this person doesn't really mind if I'm just me. So I'll be much calmer. And when they talk to me seriously, I'll be strong. Because I feel strong. When I'm not alone, that is whether I'm around someone I am closer to or am not at all acquainted with, I am strong. Because that's what I need to be, because that's who I want to be, and for the most part that's who I am. And when I say strong, I mean it in the figurative way.
Then there's this layer of weakness, that few people have ever seen or ever will see. This is the level that confuses those who have seen it. I show the weak but they keep telling me that I'm stronger than I think I am, like under this there's another layer of strength for me to tap into. But after this layer, there's just the empty abyss. I'm not strong at the end of the day, because I don't have to be. I can be strong as long as I'm not the one hurting.
So when people tell me about their struggles, I don't let it show. I don't hurt because they don't need that, but it hurts to see someone in pain. I'm strong though, and I help them up, whether it's just a pretense from my end or not.
So when people say something mean to me, I'll brush it off, but it might sting a bit somewhere deep down.
So when the people who I'm close to neglect me, it stings, but I'm not letting it show.
So when I seem like everything's okay when something's falling apart as it always does, I'm okay. I'm okay until the chaos and whirlwind of everything stops. That's when I'm not okay.

It will always hurt to know that it was something but it's not now. That someday he'll bring another girl home to his mom, and his siblings will take to her like they took to me. And there will be a day when I'm not alone again. And it won't feel the same, and it won't be the same, but it will be what I need. It's weird to think that he's fine when I'm the one hurting, when it was all my decision. It's weird, but it's how things worked out. And I'm not sure where this leaves me, but I'm here, and that's all I can say about that.

More Than This

Esther Day 2012

It's Esther day today. I mean, I didn't know her until she had passed and even now I don't know her at all. But there's still this day in a year that I have to get to know the memories she left behind. From what I've heard, she was an amazing young woman, and I'm sad to know I missed an opportunity to get to know such an amazing woman.

Please read this to get an understanding of what the world lost:
http://fishingboatproceeds.tumblr.com/post/28557373623/everybody-was-told-to-make-a-funny-face-but-i

yeah. we broke up.

It's a sad day when you wake up and realize the boy you thought you loved is someone you made up as you looked at him through rose coloured glasses, and that the little things you used to pass off as one time things are the worst character flaws he could have.

New Found Love for the Beautifully Destructive

And somehow it turns around again, so that I'm alone again, left with the books and the songs that only I would listen to because they're too depressing for someone else to bear, as Alex hikes and Lexi ignores every fiber of my being for whatever reason, whether it be her phone or something else, and I sit here. When the relationship with A first started I told him I hated storms, and much preferred a light sprinkle, but he told me the thrill he got of the skies opening, and I thought he was insane. You know, how can you like something  so beautifully destructive? And weeks ago at the beginning of the summer, I was anxious for the rain. I wanted it. And a friend pointed out that he loves storms too, and I was once again confused. And today he's upset because it altered his once high chances at a state qualification for swimming. It's such a minuscule thing, but I'm sitting here alone and the rain is the only I have. It's here and beats downs at a constant rhythm on the already soaked pavement and I'm not okay. I'm never okay, but what's okay anyway? Is okay being able to smile, because I can do that. Being able to ignore the past long enough to enjoy the present and believe in the future? I don't know what okay is, but I know this isn't it. And the thing is I won't be okay in the future because A won't be here to make it okay, because he'll be off at school for months at a time, having the time of his life while I manage. I'll manage to get up in the morning. I'll manage to make friends, whether they know me or not. I'll manage to hold on until I'm home, and safe, in this corner of the (currently rain soaked) world. Hey, I've managed that once before, but, hey, that was before I had someone let me do that with them. That was before I had someone to hold me in their arms when I fell apart. That was before I became the strong one by default and held three people up by myself for months on end. It was all before, but at the same time it was after. After the fact and after it ended and just all around after.

So it's hard to say if the rain is here to punish me, or if it's repaying what it's indebted us. Because the dry spell felt wrong, this sunshine happy facade set up by the world to make summer seem like the best thing that ever happened to me, but at the same time it made the summer unbearable. I deserve a day of downpour, of lightning and destruction and thunder, because all the seven months ago, Andrew chose me, and he found himself wrapped up in a beautifully destructive mess, and I owe it to him to just bear down and live through what I'm sure will be a fun filled and somewhat barely tolerable (Pride and Prejudice, anyone?) few years.

It's raining so hard there's a thick cover of little water dots on my computer screen. No joke. Because I'm outside.

Sorry to dump this all on you, but to be fair the sky is doing some serious dumping right now, so... I guess we're even. I'll post a lighthearted post right now. Promise. But this just made me feel better.

Love,
Forever and Always,
R

Famous People Actually Exist... Or Something

My sister has this dance she's prepared for seeing famous people. If this surprises you, you must be new. It's okay. You'll understand eventually. She didn't need to use this dance the entire time we were in California, but once we got on the plane? Yeah, some dancing went down.

Music and Feminism

Last night someone made a comment about how he gets teased by other guys when they see he has female vocalists on his iPod. He said that he's ashamed to have Adele on it. And he was surprised when I got really upset over it. Why shouldn't I? My biggest goal in life, albeit the most unattainable, is to be that girl on people's iPod, the one everyone knows and respects. But that can't be me, according to this guy. Why should guys be ashamed to listen to female artists? Apparently it's because we're not the same as male artists. No, we're not. For one, we're female. Sorry for being born the wrong gender. And the other is that we don't get the same respect you do. Which, for the record, is YOUR FAULT. Males decide whether female artists get respect or not, and they're making the wrong decision.
Also, why does it matter if I listen to Taylor Swift? Just because you don't think she's good doesn't mean she isn't. Your judgmental thoughts don't effect her talents, or my opinion of her. You can tell me over and over again that she's not a real artist but I won't listen until you've heard her music and seen the way she writes. Is she not a real artist because you don't like the style, or because you don't listen to her and that means she's not worth anyone's time? Is she not a good artist because you don't think she can sing, or because you made up your mind before giving her a chance? Is she not a good artist because you don't listen to her, or because I do? Is she not good because your friends make fun of you when you listen to her, or because you've never given her a chance? Is she not a good artist because of her style of vocals, or because she's female?
You think you're right, but for once understand that just because you think you don't like her music, or any other person's music, doesn't give you the right to judge it without listening to it first. Don't make assumptions, or judge it based on what your friends say or what you have heard. Is the music good, the writing good, the singing good? Then why can't you like it?

Love
R
Forever and Always

(January 19th, 2013 Edit: It doesn't help you only listen to one freaking band and say every other musician is shit. How do you know if a band isn't good when all you have to compare them to a band from years ago that (let's face it) isn't as fucking good as you claim, you asshole)
(yes. it's months later and I'm still bitter)

Just Don't Ask

I don't know. I really don't. I wish that I could have been able to post but my life's kind of flipped on an edge in the last few months. Seriously, everything has been sideways since winter and I'm finally adjusting to my new position. It's been a bit of a bumpy road but I'm regaining my footing and reclaiming my pride. Honestly, I'm just happy I've made it this far.
It's a hard thing to be alone, but what's harder is being alone when in a room full of people, and that's been me all my life. I've been ignoring that nagging feeling of loneliness for years but it can only be kept at bay for so long. When Alex entered my life about seven months ago I felt vindicated for a few months, before there grew this nagging entered the back of my head to tell him what I'd kept in for so long, this secret I could no longer bear to keep, and one night I just did. I ripped off my figurative band aid and told him. But the wound was still open and it was just too soon. So now there's no going back and my life has been struck down. So I must apologize for my lack of posting. Hopefully you understand.
For whatever reason, life has been insane recently.
And this secret isn't something I'm willing to share, at all. I really only told Alex to finally get help and because I trust him. I hope not to hear questions over what the secret is or a mention of it. I'll tell on my own time, and not before.
I'll try and post more often now.

Love,
R

5 Reasons I'm The Luckiest Girl In The World

1. My Parents
They love me. I know they do. They're patient with me and they're perfect
2. My Sister
She's basically my lifeline. I absolutely love her. It doesn't hurt she gives me her old clothes.
3. My Boyfriend
He is perfect and he's sweet and he's caring and he has always been there for me.*
4. My Friends
I make it a priority of mine to surround myself with awesome friends, whether I deserve them or not.
5. Music
I found my passion at a young age.

*edit: he's my ex now. just saying.
*edit: I've replaced him

Annoyances 11-20

Sorry for the weird formatting- I typed this for a journal in school.

11

Useless products that are sold on TV because they’re a waste of time, work,

effort, money, and resources. Why see the world in 3-D when you can see it in

REAL D!!!

12

When I am in class and I do something, such as covering my ears to protect

from spoilers for a book I want to read, and the boys at the table over

laugh at me. It is NOT NICE.

13

People who mock me because of my height. Yes. I know I’m shorter than you, however

I’m taller than a lot of people. And you’ll never get to be this short again, so ha!

14

When I take the time to unlock my locker and three seconds later,

I close it. Without getting my band binder out.

15

When I finish my work in Spanish early and have nothing to do. That

is annoying. It is BORING.

16

When I have nothing to write about. It annoys me that I don’t

know what to write about for journals or blogging...

17

When people laugh at the faces I make.

I make faces. Get over it. :)

18

When I’m wearing something that ties and it come undone.

That is REALLY annoying because I have to constantly

be tying it.

19

When I do something to my hair (like put it in a perfect bun,

which basically never happens) and then I have

to take it out because I mess it up.

It is never as good as the first time.

20

Invalid questions. ‘Nuff said.

Forever and Always,

Love and BEST WISHES DFTBA!

Rex

Shirts, Compliments, And Polite Ways To Shut People Up

Hello, my lovely people! I guess I should say as a preface that I am sorry for taking so long to post! BUT there is much in store for this blog! Not only did I post yesterday AND today BUT I also re-designed the blog! I want to keep it this way for the week that I am in the big U (which is next week). My goal is to start blogging regularly again and even more than just once a week, so there's something for you to look forward to! Anyway, for the next two weeks I will be posting more AND I will be participating in Blog Everyday in April this year!

Anyway, this post contains THREE parts: fashion (skip this if you so wish), compliments, and mockery. 

PART 1: FASHION

My sister (my lovely sister) has wonderful style but she quickly outgrow her clothes and gives some of them to me! So, I can now say that I am starting to actually put effort into my fashion. Today I wore a flowery tank top that I ABSOLUTELY adore! And tomorrow I plan to wear this pair of pink pants I have now and this white polka dot shirt. I really look forward to it now! The fun thing for me is expressing myself and knowing that my fashion is perceived as unique. I like knowing that people understand my personality and character simply from my fashion sense. Many people don't feel the need to express themselves through their clothing but I feel like it's a good way to look nice and try to attract attention (not like in the stealing the spotlight way but in the small compliments way:: see in next part).

Fashion is not only and art but an everyday way of helping others form opinions of one another. The way a person dresses can really affect the way a person is seen.  The reason I'm trying to put my fashion in order is because I want to be someone people look up to for style in high school because my sister likes being that way and I like that idea.

PART 2: COMPLIMENTS

Recently a guy asked me if it was true that girls only remember the bad things people say to them and not the compliments. I told him this most certainly was not true. He asked me to list five compliments I'd gotten, which I gladly did. I guess for some it doesn't work like that but I have to say that when someone compliments me, I take it to heart because I realize that not everyone will like what I do, wear, or say, so I have to be happy when people do. This is the mindset I use when I enter something; when I perform in a show, or perform a song I wrote. If people like it, I accept the compliments and accept the criticism. I just found it interesting that that was something people said.

PART 3: MOCKERY

Here's a simple way to stop someone when they're mocking you. This is a technique I've found myself using lately. I swear, this is the easiest thing for you to do when someone mocks something you said. For instance, today during art I said something in a sing-song-y and the guy next to me mocked me. So I turned to him and said to him, and I am not kidding, "Don't mock me, please.". He looked at me for a second before just walking away. I swear that it works.

Remind me to talk about telling people to shut up and dance class.

Love,

Rex

Musicals, Cancer, and Advice

  These past few months have been crazy. Really, they have been. So we'll just have to glaze over those and move on to now and I'll try to go back through those months later. Anyway, let me just try and throw myself back into this and I can apologise quite more later. Yes. Sorry for having disappeared.
   This post will come in 3 Wonderful parts: Alice In Wonderland (as in the musical and me), and The Fault In Our Stars (As in JOHN GREEN!!!!:) ) and advice (because I've been watching Dear Buck and listened to Very Good Advice like 40 FREAKING TIMES today...).

PART 1: ALICE IN WONDERLAND


Yesterday, I had a concert band concert at Northwestern (which was lovely, by the way). Which meant that it was placed directly during the time at which I was supposed to be auditioning for a production of Alice In Wonderland Jr., which was obviously impossible. So, I recorded a video of me singing the audition song which I then sent the directors. And (lucky me!) I got a call back! Which is why I spent my afternoon (from 1-4) in a freezing cold auditorium, surrounded by semi-annoying actresses and entirely nice actors.