If I May Be So Bold

I FEEL LIKE SOMETHING IS MISSING but I can’t tell what it is.

I forgot I had a tumblr.

They sent me an email to remind me.

So I guess I’m back now.

I don’t really remember how this whole blog thing works.

Let’s go off to neverland,

You’ve never seen a place so grand,

And I can grab ahold your hand,

And never

Let it

Go.

There’s that moment.

Something clicks.

We both realize it.

Stare at each other in shock.

It’s amazing, enlightening.

Crazy, perfect, obnoxious.

You know the future.

It’ll be so great.

Even the bad times will seem okay.

All because.

WE JUST BECAME BEST FRIENDS.

I’ve always found that wishing on stars is more effective than wishing on a time.

Look up. Find first star. Concentrate.

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, grant the wish I wish tonight…

There’s two feelings I hate: One, the feeling of helplessness when someone (especially someone I care about) is being hurt and I can’t make it stop. Two, the feeling that something I’ve been working for, waiting for, something amazing that’s going to happen to me, gets torn away.

On the bright side, with my second feeling, when I’ve given up hope, sometimes I get that thing back.

That feeling can lift me higher than anything.

I will run until I taste blood, until I don’t know up from down and left from right, until I don’t feel anything, until my whole body has turned to jelly.

Then I spit out the blood and keep going.

When anger courses through me, I smile, laugh, get goosebumps.

The Beatles truely are a band that had a song for almost anything.

I’m not too sure if I consider them my favorite band, but I’ve listened to them since before I was born. They’re fantastic.

A shock.

Seeing you.

I like you.

I like you a lot.

A lot more than I realized.

You’re fantastic, I didn’t understand.

I never understood until now.

Now I know.

I know I’m crazy.

Crazy for thinking this.

Crazy for thinking this might actually work.

Right now, I am:

-doing math homework;

-listening to music on my iMac, currently Paul McCartney singing a Beatles song (Something) with a ukelele;

-wearing a John Lennon tshirt and AE jeans;

-and drinking very strong Starbucks coffee out of a reuseable coffee cup that looks like a cardboard one.

All while waiting for one of my best friends to get to my hhouse so we can go to the theater.

I feel like such an accidental hipster. It’s weird.

Silly of me, really, to think asking that one question would make everything better.

Me: Were we in love once?

Him: At one time, yes.

Yet somehow, everything is better now. My three and a half year problem has closure on a normal night at 1 am.

Finally.

beware-and-be-grateful:

Fact.

One of the worst and best feelings I have experienced happened to me today.

Teacher’s son, to teacher: Billy bothers me. He’s mean.

Teacher, explaining to class: When a child comes and says that to a parent, what is the reaction of most parents?
Class: The parents tell the child to stay away from Billy.
Teacher: Exactly.

Teacher, to son: Do you know why Billy acts like that?
Son: No…
Teacher: Billy probably grew up in a very different situation. If you were in his place, who knows, you could be like him, or even worse. Always remember that.

I nodded and thought, of course, people should always try and look at someone else’s life from that certain someone’s perspective, remembering how I preach that as my beliefs. It hit me then, I am a hypocrite. I am pretty good at doing this from the perspective of large groups of people (e.g. religious or ethnic groups), but I have completely failed at doing in individual situations. I must always remember this, from now on. I will change who I was for the betterment of myself and the people I encounter.

It’s a rather bad feeling, the realization of a major fault I didn’t realize I had. At the same time, I feel refreshed. Almost like I’m happy to know, so I can change it before I get any older.

I love reading, to a point of being obsessed. It’s ruining my grades, I have the tendency to read instead of do my homework.

There was a quote I read in a book once: “Curiosity killed the cat,” Fesgao remarked, his dark eyes unreadable. Aly rolled her eyes. Why did everyone say that to her? “People always forget the rest of the saying,” she complained. “‘And satisfaction brought it back.” 
-Trickster’s Queen, by Tamora Pierce 

I highly recommend this book. It may be better, however, to first read the 12 books leading up to it. Begin with Alanna: Song of the Lioness. It is well worth your time. Pierce is a fantastic author. You need a spark of imagination and the ability to lose yourself from reality to read this series, be warned.

I digress. I must get back to my original thought.

Thirst for power is one of my ailments. I do not achieve this by being Queenly and openly demanding respect from all who talk to me; I achieve it through subtlety and manipulation. I believe in dealing in secrets and knowing all manner of things I should not. Were I really a cat with nine lives, I would be long dead by now, if not for that bittersweet taste of satisfaction. It is bittersweet, indeed, for with secrets also come a mix of truth and lies to be sorted through, problems I will solve that I have sworn never to tell, and the burden of carrying a heavy truth. People rarely realize how venerable they make themselves, giving even a small hidden fact to another person. It’s a dangerous game to play, one so many take so lightly. But oh, I savor the flavor of the power others hand to me, and do my best to keep it in check. I must not let myself run wild with it.

My curiosity overwhelms me, at times, like the ocean riptide to a weak swimmer. Fortunately for myself, my collected secrets act like a sailboat, and I am able to float above any danger of drowning. On occasion I have been known to slip and fall overboard, but alas, I am human. 

For the most part, anything I honestly wish to know, within reason, I find out. It irks me when I am the last to know what is considered a common fact among many. It bothers me deeply, and sends me on a craze of mining for secrets; my pickaxe gently, persistently trying to dig the little beautiful gems out of a large portion of useless rock. If I must go deep into the earth to find those considered most precious, so I will, and hopefully I do not die on my way out.

are always so much more fun than desperate boys. I consistently lose interest in the men who are interested in me, but throw a player my way and I will fall head over heels. Maybe I’m addicted to heartbreak. Weird.

My little town is a traditionally snowy place. Not so much this year, thank you, Global Warming, climate change, what have you. Right now, the earth is shaking salt upon my little town, and blowing on us. We must be too hot and bland for the world to gobble us up. That’s how it’s always been, in my little town.